


The Innkeeper And The Gentleman

by Blue_Night



Series: Trifels: Tales and Legends from the Pfälzer Wald [13]
Category: Football RPF, Original Work, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anger, Arguing, Aristocracy, Class Differences, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, Hurtful past, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Teaching, end of the 19th century
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2019-07-02 18:05:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15801801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/pseuds/Blue_Night
Summary: Sequel to'The Lord And The Teacher'.One year after the events happening in Castle Lindelborn and Marco and Robert having fallen in love with each other, they are back in their castle to spend the summer months there. Oscar is eleven years old and a happy boy now, and he's looking forward to spending the summer with his uncle Thomas Müller and his friends in Castle Lindelborn and from the Cramerhouse.Thomas is still adjusting to his new life in Bad Bergzabern after the ten years he has spent far away, but his nephew and especially Manuel, the handsome innkeeper of the Cramerhouse, make it easy for him to settle in in the Pfälzer Forest and appreciate the beauty of his old and new home. Can he also help Manuel's young employee Marc-André and teach him reading and writing while he's living in Castle Lindelborn for the summer?





	1. New Acquaintances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arrested](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrested/gifts), [GoForGoals](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoForGoals/gifts), [Janie94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janie94/gifts), [mariothellama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariothellama/gifts), [pinkquill22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkquill22/gifts).



> My dear friends,  
> I had wanted to write the sequel to _'The Lord And The Teacher'_ for months, but I needed some time to figure out the plot of a possible sequel. I didn't want to leave Thomas alone and unhappy, and I really missed young Oscar and my beloved Lord Lindelborn and teacher Marco. :-) I hope that you will like this part of my beloved Trifels-series as much as you liked the prequel.  <33
> 
> Dear Anne,  
> I can't gift this to you officially, but please know that this story is written for you and gifted to you as well. <33
> 
> Here's a quick summary of the events taking place in the first part as a reminder of what happened:
> 
> Robert, Earl of Lindelborn, is a young widower and single father, and his son Oscar is ten years old and thrown out of his school because of his unruly behavior.  
> Robert hires Marco Reus as Oscar's teacher, and Oscar does everything he can do to deter his new teacher away by pulling pranks and trying to scare him in the appearance of the ghost 'Kuno'.  
> But Marco wins his trust and friendship, and Oscar is happy for the first time in his life. Lord Robert had been forced into the marriage with Oscar's mother when he was eighteen - even though he was secretly in love with her brother Thomas before he knew who his father had chosen for him as his wife. Robert has never allowed himself to fall in love again after losing his love, and he wants to send Marco away when he realizes that he has feelings for him.  
> Oscar runs away from the castle when his father tells him that Marco has to leave, and Robert desperately asks Marco for help when he searches for him. They rescue Oscar together and spend day and night together sitting at Oscar's sick-bed afterwards, and Robert finally opens up to Marco.  
> At the end of summer, they are happy together, and the small family spend the winter in Tübingen where Marco studies archaeology, while the summer is reserved for Castle Lindelborn and the excavations in the Pfälzer Forest. Thomas, Lord Robert's first love and later brother-in-law, comes back to Bad Bergzabern and accepts the job as a teacher in Lord Robert's new school for poor children, and Castle Lindelborn is a happy place now.
> 
> The places mentioned in the two parts truly exist, the 'Cramerhouse' (Cramerhaus) is a large traditional inn lying at the base of the mountain where Castle Lindelborn (Lindelbrunn) sits enthroned on top of it, and it has a long history. Castle Lindelborn was one of the imperial castles protecting Castle Trifels in former times, and it is only a ruin nowadays, but in this story and the prequel, it is still a proud and proper castle.  
> Neustadt an der Weinstraße is the south end of the 'German Weinstraße' (Wine-road), a region near the river Rhine with mild climate where wine has been cultivated for centuries. Bad Bergzabern is an old traditional health resort not far away from Castle Lindelborn.
> 
> This story and the prequel take place around 1884/1885
> 
> There are several original characters showing up in this story, the boy Oscar is one of them. He's based on my dear friend Arrested's awesome original character Oscar, all credits regarding him go to them. I borrowed him for my Trifels-stories with their kind permission.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oscar is finally back in his beloved castle, and he visits Manuel in the Cramerhouse and meets Manuel's new employee Marc-André for the first time, while Manuel meets his young uncle Thomas Müller for the first time shortly after Oscar's visit.

“Manu, Manu, we're back!”

Manuel hadn't seen the young boy who was storming into the Cramerhouse like a whirlwind now for a rather long time, and he opened his arms for Oscar with a huge smile on his face, neither of them caring that young lords shouldn't run and yell like that.

Oscar threw himself into his arms with a loud shout of joy, and Manuel whirled him around his axis before putting him back onto his feet again.

“Lord Oscar, I can't believe it! You've already become taller again since your last visit! It won't take long until you'll be as tall as your father,” he said, and Oscar blushed and giggled like only eleven-year-old boys could giggle. “Oh, Manu, it will still take another few years until I'll be as tall as my father – or as you are,” he objected, but he looked pleased and proud at Manuel's words.

The tall and broadly built innkeeper of the Cramerhouse smiled down at him. “Not as long as your father Lord Lindelborn would like it to take, I guess,” he stated, causing Oscar to roll his eyes with another snicker.

“You're right with that, Manu. If my father or Mr. Reus had anything to say in this matter, than I would always stay a young boy and never grow up.”

“That's what parents would like best,” Manuel chuckled, “you must understand that it's hard for your father to watch his sweet boy grow up and mature. I might not be a father myself, but I've encountered enough parents in my life to know that – starting with my own ones who didn't want me to become a grown-up man either.”

Oscar looked doubtful, but he sighed and nodded slowly. “You're probably right with that too,” he said, looking around in the large and friendly taproom. “Tübingen is a nice city, but I've really missed my home. It's so good to be back,” he said, and Manuel could only agree to that.

“We've missed you too, Lord Oscar, a lot,” he smiled, going back to wiping the tables with a wet cloth. “Your return is also a clear sign that summer has finally come to the Pfälzer Forest. By the way – where are them? Your father and Mr. Reus, I mean. They didn't let you come here alone, did they?”

“No, of course not. They're still busied with unpacking and settling in. Grown-ups always need so much more time for these things than children do,” Oscar snickered, “but they allowed me to come here with Nuri and Erik. The horses needed to be moved, and the day is far too beautiful to spend it inside the house. Erik and Nuri should come in here every minute, they only wanted to check the path because there are some rather deep holes right where the bifurcation is.”

The door opened when Oscar hadn't even finished his sentence, revealing two handsome young men who entered the Cramerhouse now as well, Manuel's new employee Marc-André in tow.  
Marc-André had lost his parents at a young age, and he'd grown up in the household of his uncle and his aunt, having to work from dawn til dusk and even longer for the small cot and the two meager meals they had grudgingly conceded him for his hard work. Marc-André had never been allowed to attend school, and no one had wanted to offer him a job because of his lack of education and knowledge when his uncle had thrown him out of his house on his eighteenth birthday, telling him that he was old enough to work for his living somewhere else now.

Manuel had caught him when Marc-André had tried to burgle the shack that belonged to the Cramerhouse and where Manuel kept most of his supplies, and instead of calling the police Manuel had offered him his spare room and a job. It had been January and freezing cold outside, and the young man had already lived on the road for several months when his journey had led him to Mnauel's inn on that dark and cold winter night. Manuel still went furious when he thought of Marc-André's cruel uncle's behavior, and he did his best to prove to the boy that not all people were like his own heartless relatives.

The boy hadn't wanted to steal anything or cause any damage or harm, he had only been desperate and simply searched for something to eat and a place where he would survive the cold nights, and Marc-André showed his gratitude about the chance Manuel had given him every single day and worked hard and with greatest passion.

Manuel could do with some help since his foot still gave him some troubles now and then, and he had to be careful after the complicated fracture he had suffered last year because another injury would most likely force him to give up his beloved inn. Marc-André was mistrustful and kept his distance from everyone except Manuel, but Erik and Nuri didn't let themselves be deterred away that easily, always smiling at the younger one and talking friendlily to him whenever they came to the Cramerhouse. Marc was slowly opening up to them, but Oscar's presence made him duck his head between his shoulders and seeking shelter behind Manuel's broad frame.

“Manuel! Lord Oscar was so eager to see you again, he didn't want to wait for us,” Nuri now greeted him, and Manuel chuckled. “Yes, it's good to have him back – and Lord Lindelborn and Mr. Reus as well of course. Even though I fear that we won't get to see them often. The excavation in Castle Trifels will surely take up most of their time over the next months.”

“That's true, but they will certainly come to the summer ball, Manuel,” Erik said, ruffling Oscar's hair. The boy beamed at him before curiously regarding Manuel's young servant. Marc-André had fled behind the counter, busying himself with drying the glasses Manuel had put on the counter top.

“I am Oscar,” the boy now introduced himself to Marc-André, “I don't think that I know you, but Manuel's friends are my friends as well. You must be nice if you work for him.”

The older boy blushed and ducked his head deeper between his shoulders, peering at Oscar with mistrust written all over his face – even though he tried to keep his expression blank. “Good morning, your grace,” he mumbled, looking like a rabbit sitting before a sizzling snake. Manuel felt pity with him and was about to open his mouth and say something when Oscar shot him a quick glance and shook his head. Manuel had always been amazed about Oscar's sensitivity and his caring nature, and he snapped his mouth shut again and watched Oscar approaching Marc-André without trying to interfere.

“I'm not a real lord yet - not as long as my father is the Earl of Lindelborn, I mean – and I really hope that it will stay that way for the next decades. And there is no need to call him 'your grace' either, because only dukes and duchesses have to be addressed this way. We're among friends here, so calling me Oscar will do just fine. Will you tell me your name, please? You really look like someone I want to be friends with too.”

Marc-André finally looked at Oscar, worrying his bottom lip uncertainly. “My name is Marc-André, but Mr. Neuer calls me Marc only, Lor... uhm, Oscar,” he said after a moment or two, carefully putting the glass he had dried onto the counter.

“Marc-André is a beautiful name!” Oscar beamed at his new friend. “But I think I will call you Marc. My teacher Mr. Reus answers to the name Marco. He's the best teacher in the world, and if you share the same name, then you must be as nice as I think that you are!” He turned his head to look pleadingly at Manuel.

“Would you mind Marc coming with me to look for some strawberries and cherries at the other side of the meadow, Manuel? I promised Erik and Nuri not to stroll around on my own, but I really want to bring Mathilda some cherries and strawberries for her delicious cherry and strawberry pies, and I wouldn't be alone if Marc came with me. He's old enough to watch me, right?”

Manuel had never been able to resist Oscar and deny him anything, and he nodded his head with a smile. “That's a really good idea, Oscar. You could pluck some fruits for me too, actually. I'm sure that my customers will appreciate some fresh lemonade when they find their way here after their hiking tours.”

Oscar let out another shout of joy, looking pleadingly at Marc-André and tugging at his hand. “Will you come with me, Marc? Pretty please?” he begged, and the older boy swallowed, apparently fearing that he was only dreaming. “You really wouldn't mind, Mr. Neuer?” he asked, but Manuel was already reaching out for the basket he kept on the shelf over the counter.

“Not at all, Marc. I would be grateful if you plucked some cherries for me, we haven't offered fresh lemonade to our guests since last year, and my foot is still giving me troubles. There must be a ladder in the shack, you will need it for the cherry trees. It shouldn't be too heavy for you to carry it. Take your time, Oscar, I think that Lord Lindelborn and Mr. Reus won't miss you as long as they're still busied with boring adult-stuff.”

Erik and Nuri made a strangled sound at that rather ambiguous remark, shooting Manuel a suspicious glance, but neither Oscar nor Marc looked as if they had caught the double-meaning, their cheeks rosy with joy at the prospect of being allowed to pluck some juicy berries and play around on the meadow together.

“Thank you, Mr. Neuer, the basket will be filled with cherries when we'll come back.” Marc had lost some of his shyness, and he took the basket with a grateful glance and a genuine smile in Manuel's direction when he let Oscar pull him out into the bright sunshine. Manuel leaned against the counter with a relieved sigh and a grateful smile on his own.

“I can hardly believe it, but Oscar has actually done a miracle. Marc hasn't smiled like that ever since I found him in my shack,” he said, and Erik and Nuri nodded their heads thoughtfully. “You're right, we haven't seen him smile so far either. At least not that happily. But Oscar has this effect on people as you know. You should see his father, Manuel. Lord Robert is a totally different man since Marco came to Castle Lindelborn last year. He's so happy now, and Oscar is laughing and happy too. He's not the sad and defiant child he once was any longer, and the entire atmosphere in Castle Lindelborn is cheerful and lighthearted now, everyone has a smile on their faces throughout the whole day.”

“I can imagine, Marco is the best thing that could happen to them. They'll spend the summer months here because of the excavation in Castle Trifels, right?” Manuel filled two glasses with beer, handing them to Nuri and Erik. The dark-haired equerry leaned against the counter beside him while Erik seated himself on one of the tables opposite them, sipping from his beer before he confirmed Manuel's assumption.

“Yes. Lord Robert is one of the financiers, and Marco's professor in Tübingen, Professor Hummels, is the chief archaeologist of the excavation. He agreed to Marco joining him, although he has only just started his studies in winter – not because of Lord Robert's money, but because Marco has passed his first exams with summa cum laude. Besides, they need every helping hand they can get, and a lot of young gentlemen studying archaeology don't want to get their hands dirty. They dream of great discoveries and earning a lot of money with them, but they don't want to spend hours with digging in the sand. Therefore Professor Hummels is all too happy to have someone like Marco by his side.  
We feared that Oscar would be disappointed about having to stay in Castle Lindelborn, but his uncle, Mr. Müller, will spend the summer months in Castle Lindelborn to keep Oscar company. Oscar knows how much this chance means to Marco, and the school Lord Robert has built in his old villa in Bad Bergzabern is closed during the summer months anyway, so Mr. Müller has time to take care of Oscar while his father and Marco are away. It's their chance to get to know each other after the years his uncle has lived in America. Sven is driving to Bad Bergzabern to pick him up and bring him to Castle Lindelborn as we talk.”

Manuel didn't know Mr. Müller, but he had heard about him and his relationship to the Earl of Lindelborn, who had been married to Mr. Müller's deceased sister. The school the young earl had built in the former villa of his father offered the children of the poorer people a chance to attend a school without having to pay money for that, but the school was closed during the summer months because Lord Robert knew that the young boys and girls had to help their parents on the fields, on the farm or in the house then. School was reserved for the winter months, and the Earl of Lindelborn knew better than trying to change the way of life the Pfälzer had established over the last centuries and decades.

“I'm glad to hear that Marco has gotten this chance. And that Oscar will spend some time with his uncle. Family is important, and Lord Robert doesn't have siblings, so Mr. Müller is actually one of the few relatives Oscar has.”

“Yes, and he's young enough to understand Oscar. Thomas is about the same age as Lord Robert, a year younger or so, I think. We have met him a couple of times since his return, he's a great guy, and we heard that he's awesome with his students, a natural born teacher – just like Marco,” Nuri said, and Manuel had to admit that he was curious to meet Oscar's uncle now.

His thoughts wandered back to Marc-André, who had never gotten the chance to attend school, and Manuel's attempts to teach him reading and writing had almost ended in a disaster. He had stopped his lessons quickly again, as he had feared that Marc-André would run away if it went on like that, and he spent the late hours after closing the Cramerhouse behind the last customer with seeing to his books instead of letting his young employee do it like he'd hoped that he could do one day.

It was probably too late for Marc to learn these things, and he promised to himself that his young charge would always have a place to live and a job as long as the Cramerhouse existed and Manuel was its innkeeper.

“Can we help you as long as Marc is watching over Oscar?” Erik asked, knowing that Manuel had to be careful with his foot. “I think that your hedgerows could do with a cut, and I know that you don't have time for such things.”

Manuel smiled gratefully at his friend. “I can't ask you to do that, Erik,” he objected though, but Erik waved his protest away. “You're not asking, I was offering my help, Manu,” he said, gliding down from the table. “The tools are in the shack?”

Manuel nodded, and Nuri put his empty glass back on the counter. “I'll see to the fence while Erik cuts the hedges. Will you tell Oscar where we are when he comes back?”

“Of course, thank you, my friends. I'd be lost without you,” Manuel thanked them, and Erik and Nuri smiled at him before they left the taproom. “You're welcome, Manu. That's what friends are for after all,” Erik said, and Manuel watched them leave the Cramerhouse thinking that there was no place on earth where he'd rather live than here at the base of Castle Lindelborn, surrounded by his friends and the people he truly cared about.

 

***

 

“We're almost there, sir,” Sven said stopping the carriage, “I just need to talk to Mr. Neuer for a few minutes. He's the innkeeper of the Cramerhouse, and we're running out of Lord Robert's favorite wine. Manuel has a deal with Lord Robert, and he promised me to get the wine when he would drive to Neustadt last week.”

“Of course, Sven,” Thomas said, climbing out of the carriage with a suppressed groan. The vehicle was comfortable, but the road had been pretty bumpy over the last few miles, and Thomas was grateful that he could stretch his limbs and walk a few meters while Sven talked to the innkeeper. He had visited Castle Lindelborn two or three times but never really paid attention to the neat inn lying at the base of the mountain, and he followed Sven to the white half-timbered house curiously.

Two men were standing behind the counter when Thomas entered the house together with Sven, and the taller one caught Thomas' eye right away. He was really tall, and broadly built, at least those parts of his body Thomas could detect behind the bar, like his shoulders and arms. He had dark-blond hair and boyish features, but Thomas guessed that he was older than he looked like, in his late twenties or early thirties perhaps. Clear blue eyes directed themselves at him for a few seconds before Mr. Neuer – Thomas at least thought that he must be the barkeeper – focused his attention on Sven.

Thomas felt a soft tingling in his stomach when he stepped closer and the other one's fresh male scent filled his nose, but he suppressed his feelings rigorously, as nothing good would come out of it if he saw more in Mr. Neuer than just a new acquaintance he most likely wouldn't see more than a few times over the next months anyway. He really should have learned his lesson after what had happened eleven years ago, and he didn't want to make the same mistake again.

Thomas straightened his shoulders and schooled his features into a mask of polite indifference as Mr. Neuer approached them now, gifting Thomas with a brief bow of his head. “Welcome in the Cramerhouse, sir. I am Manuel Neuer, the innkeeper of the Cramerhouse, and you must be Mr. Müller, Lord Oscar's uncle. He told me about your imminent arrival before he left us half an hour ago.”

Thomas couldn't avert his eyes from Manuel's intense gaze, and he offered his hand to the taller one before he knew what he was doing. “Good afternoon, Mr. Neuer. You're right, I'm Oscar's uncle. I'll spend the summer months in Castle Lindelborn because his father, the Earl of Lindelborn, will be busied with the excavation in Castle Trifels.”

Manuel smiled, and Thomas' heart made a small somersault. “Yes, Oscar told me about that too. He's already excited and looking forward to your visit, sir.”

“He can't be more excited than I am,” Thomas admitted with a smile, “even more because I've never lived in a real castle so far. Lord Robert and I know each other since our childhood, but his father preferred to live in Bad Bergzabern, and I've never been in Castle Lindelborn for longer than a few hours until today.”

“I was told that the castle has even a real dungeon,” Manuel stated with a wink, “perhaps there's also a proper ghost still spooking around there?”

“Uh, I hope not,” Thomas chuckled with a shiver of pleasant disgust, “I would surely get a proper fright if I found a ghost standing before my bed at midnight.”

Sven had listened to their talk with a stoic face, and he cleared his throat now. “Kuno is actually a nice ghost, and he will surely visit you if you ask him nicely. You really don't need to be afraid of him, sir,” he stated almost casually before looking at Manuel, making Thomas gape at him in stunned surprise. “Have you gotten the wine, Manuel?”

“Yes, Marc can help you with the bottles,” Manuel said with a quick glance at Thomas, turning around to smile at the younger man watching them from under his lashes and with a wary expression on his face. “Marc, would you please help Sven packing the bottles? They're already paid.”

“Yes, Mr. Neuer. Good afternoon, sir.” The young man Manuel had addressed as Marc mumbled, leaving his shelter behind the counter only reluctantly as he nodded vaguely in Thomas' direction. He rounded the three men in a large circle and squeezed himself through the small space left between the tables to leave the taproom. Thomas guessed that Manuel kept the wine and his beer in a cellar behind the house, and Sven confirmed his assumption when he followed Marc outside. “I'll wait for you by the carriage, sir. The cellar is behind the house, and Marc can't carry the boxes with the wine without help.”

“Thank you, Sven. I'll be there right away.” Thomas looked at Manuel again when Sven had left them, hesitant to say goodbye to the tall barkeeper with the handsome features. “Robert and Oscar will be waiting for me, I guess,” he said, feeling shy all of a sudden, and Manuel nodded. “Yes, Oscar could hardly wait for your arrival. You will like Castle Lindelborn, it's a wonderful place to live in, sir,” he agreed, and Thomas sighed and slowly made his way to the door.

“I wish you a pleasant day, Mr. Neuer,” he murmured as he opened the door and lifted his hand in some kind of awkward farewell, Manuel's voice still echoing in his head when he was sitting in the carriage again.

“I wish you, the same, sir, I hope that you'll enjoy your stay.”


	2. A New Temporary Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas arrives in Castle Lindelborn, and Manuel gets another surprise visit...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear friends,  
> I had a not so good day today, and I consoled myself with writing another chapter of this story with Oscar, I hope you will enjoy reading it. <33

“We're there, sir.” Sven opened the carriage, and Thomas climbed out of the vehicle with a smile that was both expectantly and shy at the same time.

He had corresponded with Robert on a regular basis over the past weeks, but exchanging letters were not comparable to seeing each other in person, and Robert's last visit in Bad Bergzabern before he had left the Pfalz to spend the winter in Tübingen had been months ago. Robert had come to Bad Bergzabern together with Oscar but without Marco, and Thomas felt anxious about his imminent meeting with Marco.

Now he would have to face the man Robert loved so much for the first time, and Thomas felt nervous and uncertain, even more because he also feared that Oscar would not be happy that he had to stay in Castle Lindelborn with the uncle he hardly knew instead of being allowed to accompany his father and his beloved teacher to Castle Trifels.

His knees felt like jelly when his feet stepped onto solid ground again after sitting more than two hours in a jolting carriage, and he let his eyes travel over the reddish walls of Castle Lindelborn that craned its towers and roofs proudly into the clear blue summer sky. Robert's home was as impressive as Thomas remembered it to be, of a classic ancient beauty that took Thomas' breath away. This mighty castle would be his temporary home within the next months, and Thomas felt a soft tingling in his stomach at the thought of exploring these proud walls together with his nephew.

“Uncle Thomas, Uncle Thomas! I'm so happy that you're finally here!” A small figure threw itself into his arms before Thomas even knew what was happening to him, and a pair of thin arms wrapped themselves around his midsection. Big hazel-brown eyes peered up at him from under a shock of tousled brown hair, and Thomas fell in love with his nephew again right where he stood, his throat tightening when he found his beloved deceased sister in Oscar's delicate features and in his soft brown eyes.

Oscar was all that was left from her, and Thomas pulled him in his arms and lifted him up to hold him tight without thinking. “Oscar, my boy, I can't believe how tall and mature you've become since I've seen you last November,” he croaked out, furtively wiping a tear of emotion from his cheeks. Oscar snickered and wrapped his arms around his neck. “Manuel has said the same today. Daddy is not pleased to see me grow up though, he's complaining about me becoming too big too quickly.”

Thomas chuckled, craning his head back to take a closer look at the boy in his arms. “I can imagine, Oscar. Parents have a hard time to let go of their sweet little children. But you're still young enough to play with me, aren't you? I've brought you some new tin soldiers for your diorama.”

“Ah, thank you, Uncle Thommy!” Oscar shouted, before he hesitated uncertainly. “You don't mind me calling you Uncle Thommy, do you? Uncle Thomas sounds so stiff and formal.”

“Not at all, Oscar. I like Uncle Thommy much better than Uncle Thomas as well. We only have to be careful when there are strangers around. Some people don't like it when children are not 'respectful' enough how they put it.”

Oscar nodded sincerely. “Yes, I know, Uncle Thommy. It's the same with Marco. We need to call him Mr. Reus when others are around. It's stupid, but I would never risk getting him into trouble, and I won't put you to shame with my behavior, I promise you.”

Thomas smiled at his nephew. “I didn't think that you would do that. So you're really fine with me keeping you company over the next months, Oscar? You're not disappointed that you can't be a part of the excavation in Castle Trifels?”

“No, Uncle Thommy, not at all. Professor Hummels is really nice, and he said that he could search for a solution to let me come with daddy and Marco. But I know that it wouldn't be alright with the other financiers. Apart from that, daddy and Marco would worry about me getting harmed or lost all of the time, and I want them to focus on their work. They promised me to spend the weekends with us, and it was actually me asking daddy if you could visit us as long as your school is closed.”

Thomas was impressed, and he carefully put Oscar back onto his feet again, proffering the boy his right hand. Oscar took it with sparkling eyes to shake it. “That was very mature and kind of you, Oscar. I am very happy that you want me to spend the summer with you. We could do our own research and excavation here on the mountain, what do you think? Maybe we will find something interesting.”

“That would be great, Uncle Thommy! Come on, you must greet daddy and Marco. They're all waiting for you!” Oscar shouted, pulling at his hand. Thomas had been so focused on Oscar that he hadn't noticed the rest of the welcoming committee standing before the large wooden portal of the ancient castle. His heart started to hammer when his gaze fell upon the dark-haired earl, and memories of his childhood friend and first love flashed unbidden in his mind. Robert Lando, Earl of Lindelborn, was as handsome and beautiful as Thomas remembered him to be, probably even more because he was a man in his best age now and not a boy any longer. Robert also looked happy and relaxed instead of strict and reserved, the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and his dark hair ruffled as if he – or Marco – had carded his fingers through it several times. The handsome blond standing beside him must be Marco, and Thomas liked him at first sight – despite of the jealousy he couldn't help but feel at the thought of what the other man was able to do to Robert.

Marco was allowed to love Robert, to kiss and touch him like Thomas had once been permitted to do as well, and it wasn't lost on Thomas that both men stood very close to each other and looked as if they had just gotten up from bed after having made good use of it for hours.

He swallowed, reluctantly stepping closer when Oscar pulled at his hand again. Robert smiled at him, his blue eyes crinkling with real joy. “Thomas, it's far too long since you've visited us in castle Lindelborn. We're delighted that you're doing us the honor and joy to spend the summer here with us.”

Robert's words sounded a little bit stilted, but his embrace was firm and the emotion audible in his voice was genuine. Thomas was stiff at first, fearing that Marco wouldn't take it well if he returned the hug, but Robert didn't let go of him until he wrapped his arms around him and hugged his brother-in-law back. That was what Robert was for him now, and Thomas was grateful that they could talk to each other again without feeling guilty and choking on their suppressed anger and grief.

“Robert, it's so good to see you again. You look good,” he murmured sheepishly when the young earl gently pushed him away to regard him. “You too, my dear. A little bit sore from the long and bumpy ride, but good,” Robert stated contentedly, gesturing to the blond at his side. “Thomas, this is Mr. Reus – Marco - Oscar's teacher. We're not formal when we're alone, I hope that this is alright with you.”

Thomas had accepted Robert's offer to teach the children in his newly opened school when they had met last autumn after ten years of separation, and Thomas had seen Oscar back then as well, but Marco had already been in Tübingen for his studies, and today was the first time they saw each other. He reached out his hand again, and he knew that his smile was strained, but it was still hard for him to face the man who had won Robert's heart and made him so happy.

Marco had beautiful amber-green eyes, and they sparkled with kindness and understanding when he took Thomas' hand to squeeze and shake it. “Welcome in Castle Lindelborn, sir. I cannot tell you how grateful and happy I am that you're visiting us. It's an honor to finally make your acquaintance. Robert has told me so much about you and the awesome job you're doing in his school, I hope that we will find time to talk about our shared profession and your education style.”

Thomas stared at Marco with his mouth hanging open for a moment, because he really hadn't expected this. He had expected Marco to be reserved and mistrustful, to be anxious because he must know that he and Robert had once loved each other. But there was only joy and gratitude visible in his eyes, curiosity and hope that Thomas would accept his unspoken offer to become friends one day. He swallowed, and his own reservation and anxiety drained away as he looked in those amber-golden orbs.

“The pleasure and honor is all mine, Marco. Please call me Thomas, we're among family here, aren't we? Plus, I'd be delighted to talk to you about your education style as well – which must be similar to mine after all that Robert has told me. I'm a big fan of outdoor lessons myself.”

Marco's smile turned lopsided, and he did what Robert had done and pulled him in a friendly hug. “Yes, we are family. Great, I'm looking forward to our discussions, Thomas. You must be tired after having been trapped in the carriage for so long, and Oscar is eager to show you your rooms.” Marco released him from his embrace, and Oscar appeared beside Thomas again, beaming at him after a quick glance at his father.

“Come, Uncle Thommy, I'll show you your rooms. The old master's bedroom has been renovated while we were in Tübingen, it's our guest suite now. I'm sure that you will like it, it's more a hall then a room actually, and it's much more comfortable and friendly now than it was before. Sven and Lars have already brought your baggage there.”

Thomas' head was spinning, and he gratefully took Oscar's hand and let him guide him to his new temporary home, thinking that seeing Robert again and meeting Marco had gone much better than he'd feared that it would do. A pair of clear blue eyes suddenly appeared before his mind's eye, and Thomas couldn't help but wonder if there was a chance to visit the Cramerhouse again within the next weeks, because Thomas really wanted to see Manuel, the tall and handsome innkeeper of the Cramerhouse, again.

 

***

 

Manuel and Marc-André had spent the hour after Mr. Müller's departure with getting everything ready for the evening when their patronage would come for a cool beer or a glass of Pfälzer wine. Three tables were already occupied, one with a group of young men who were resting in the Cramerhouse after a long hiking tour, the other two tables with four couples in their middle ages. Manuel didn't know them, and he thought that they were probably visiting friends or family in this region. One of the couples had asked for a room for an overnight stay, but Manuel unfortunately had had to decline their wish.

The Cramerhouse was actually big enough to offer overnight stays for its customers, but Manuel was alone with Marc-André, and he would have needed at least one more servant and a maid for running a hotel. A young woman from Darstein, Lisbeth, came five times a week from Wednesday to Sunday to help him in the kitchen and with the cooking for his guests, and Manuel had actually thought about expanding his services, but then he'd broken his foot and his plans had come to an abrupt end. Perhaps he could revive them next year if Marc stayed with him, but for now he had to be content with what he had.

The noise of clopping hooves and squealing wheels made him look out of the window, and the large black carriage that had come to an halt before his door made him curious. “Marc, could you please see to the orders of table four?” he asked, and Marc nodded quietly and disappeared into the kitchen to get the platter with the special Pfälzer dishes table four had ordered.

Manuel crossed the taproom to see who his new customer was, and the loud voices coming from the front yard before his inn made him accelerate his steps. He pushed against the door to see what was wrong, and his mouth dropped open when he recognized the newcomers, a gentleman with white hair he knew quite well because it was the husband of his mother's younger sister and therefore Manuel's uncle. The other man was his uncle's faithful carter Franck, a man of about Manuel's age, standing before the carriage as if he was guarding it – or someone still sitting in the black vehicle.

“Uncle Joseph, Franck, what are you doing here? I didn't expect your visit, why didn't you inform me about your arrival?” Manuel stammered, hastening closer to welcome his uncle properly. His uncle pulled him a brief hug before regarding Manuel attentively. “Manuel, my dear nephew, you look much better than the last time you visited us. May I presume that you've made a full recovery from your fracture then?”

“Almost, Uncle Joseph. My foot is still giving me some troubles sometimes, but it's getting better, and Dr. Klopp is content with me. Please come in and let me get you something to drink,” Manuel said, and his uncle sighed. “I cannot stay for long, my dear nephew, and I must say that I came here to ask you a rather big favor. That's why I didn't inform you about my visit, the letter would have taken longer to reach you than it took us to come here.”

“I see.” Manuel looked back and forth between his uncle and his carter. “What about Franck, he must be tired and thirsty after your long journey?”

His uncle smiled grimly. “Franck will get some rest and a cool beer on our way home. He needs to make sure that my stepson won't disappear while we're talking.”

“Your stepson? My cousin Bernd?” Manuel didn't understand anything. Joseph Heynckes took his arm and started to walk to the entrance. “I'll telly you everything inside, Manuel,” he said, and Manuel swallowed and let his uncle guide him back to the Cramerhouse, wondering how many more surprise visits this day would bring.

 

***

 

“... you see that I really need your help, Manuel. Bernd needs to learn his lesson, and I do believe that the Cramerhouse is the best place where he can do that. Your aunt has gotten gray hair almost overnight because of his antics. He seems to think that he doesn't need to work for his living and that he can party all day and night long with his so-called friends. I'm pretty sure that they would turn their backs on him the minute I refuse to pay for the parties any longer, but Bernd refuses to listen to me and the voice of reason.  
How am I supposed to establish him as my successor if I have to fear that he will ruin the business my father has built up with his bare hands and so much sweat and troubles, Manuel? My employees trust me that their jobs are safe and that they will be paid on a regular basis, but Bernd will ruin everything within a couple of months if he doesn't mature and change his way of thinking.”

“And you hope that living here in the Pfälzer Forest will do the trick as boring and frustrating being stuck here must be?” Manuel asked ironically, his eyes darting to Marc-André busying himself in safe distance from them behind the counter. His uncle followed his gaze. “Your young servant doesn't look bored to me,” he stated, and Manuel snorted. “Marc-André is not the usual kind of bored young gentleman, Uncle Joseph. He didn't grow up like Bernd, and he knows what it means to work for his living, believe me.”

“Yes, that's obvious. I really wished that I hadn't spoiled Bernd the way I did, I made the mistake of thinking that I could win his approval by fulfilling his every wish. He was too young to understand why his mother wanted to marry again after his father's death, and he probably hates me even more now that I've brought him here.” His uncle rubbed his temples in a tired gesture. “I'm sorry, Manuel, you have enough problems on your own. I shouldn't have come here to ask you for help. I will return to Straßburg with Bernd and try to find another solution for him.”

Manuel laid his hand upon the older one's arm. “You did the right thing, Uncle Joseph, that's what family are for, aren't they? You accommodated me with money when no one else wanted to do that, and you waited patiently until I could pay it back to you without ever pushing me. The Cramerhouse is making good profit thanks to your willingness to believe in me back then, and I could actually do with some help because I thought about turning my inn into a hotel before I broke my foot last year. There is not so much Bernd can do here except for enjoying the beautiful landscape, so actually having to work for the first time in his life might be a good distraction from his boredom and make him see the necessity and importance of certain virtues.”

His uncle gifted him with a relieved smile. “Thank you, Manuel. You don't know how much your help means to your aunt and me. It wouldn't be for long, it would only be a temporary home for him during the summer months. But please don't treat him like a guest, Bernd really needs to learn that money needs to be earned and that wasting it will ruin not only himself but a lot of people in the end. Plus, he really needs to know how it feels to work for one's living.”

Manuel chuckled. “He won't be my guest, don't worry. I have only one spare room at the moment, and he'll have to share it with Marc-André. The others are not properly furnished, and they will be reserved for possible guests anyway if I'll actually make a hotel out of the Cramerhouse. It will be interesting to see how the two of them will get along with each other,” he drawled, shooting another glance in Marc's direction. His faithful employee wouldn't serve a spoiled young gentleman just like that and without any protest, that much was clear, and Bernd would learn the lesson Manuel's uncle wanted to teach him the hard way here in the middle of nowhere, there was no doubt about that left.

 

***

 

Thomas had washed his face and his hands and changed into fresh clothes by the time Oscar knocked at his door to pick him up for dinner, grateful that he wasn't expected to wear a tailcoat on that still hot and sunny evening. Robert had assured him that he didn't need to wear formal clothing as long as they didn't have guests that weren't family, and he felt much more comfortable in his worn leather breeches and a simple white shirt.

“Uncle Thommy! Have you rested a bit?” Oscar asked cheerfully when he stormed into the large room after Thomas' “come in!”

“Yes, thank you, Oscar. You were right, this room is really more a suite than a simple room.” Thomas guest chamber was furnished with exquisite beech furniture, elegant and classic and yet comfortable, and the walls were wallpapered in a friendly light yellow color. The curtains were made of golden brocade, and the view from the large window was breathtaking. Thomas could look over the green hills and mountains of the Pfälzer Forest and see the blue sky, and he already felt at home and was eager to explore the castle and the beautiful region together with Oscar.

“That's wonderful! I'm so happy that you like it here, Uncle Thommy. I asked daddy if we could have a picnic in the garden instead of sitting in the dining room. I hope you don't mind.”

“A picnic sounds like fun!” Thomas assured his nephew with a smile, and he listened attentively to Oscar's explanations when the young boy led him through the corridors and hallways to the garden.

Someone had set up a table under the huge lime tree, and and Thomas took in the sight wishing that he could paint the scenery. He wasn't good when it came to arts, glad that Mr. Weigl was the one teaching arts in their school. Robert and Marco were already waiting for them, waving at him to join them at the table. Oscar gestured to the other residents of Castle Lindelborn to introduce them to Thomas as they approached the table under the tree.

“You already know Sven, our carter. There standing next to him are his twin-brother Lars, and our butler Sebastian.” Thomas offered his hand to both of them without caring that they were servants. He had done the same when he had still lived in his father's household, never thinking that he was superior because he came from an important and wealthy family. Lars and Sebastian smiled at him and looked pleased at his behavior, and Oscar beamed at him and turned to the three women still busied with setting the table.

“Where are my manners? Of course I should have introduced our ladies beforehand!” Oscar chided himself, pulling a chuckle from them. “You are forgiven, Lord Oscar,” the smallest one said with a wink of her eye, and Thomas felt drawn to her instantly.

“But my nephew is right, madam. I hope that you will forgive me too.”

“You're a charmer, Mr. Müller, but that was to be expected considering that you're Lord Oscar's uncle. I am Mathilda, Lord Robert's cook.” she said, but Robert shook his head. “Mathilda is much more than just a simple cook, Thomas. Don't let yourself be fooled. I dare say that she's the good mind and soul of Castle Lindelborn. We'd be lost without her. Mathilda is the one keeping everything together.”

“That she is,” Marco confirmed, “and her dishes are the best dishes in the world. You'll have to do a lot of walking and exercising if you don't want to put on weight under her care.” This earned him a strict glance from Mathilda, but her face softened when Marco took her hand to blow a kiss upon it.

“Charmers! All of you!” she said shaking her head, ruffling Oscar's hair. “Go on, sweetheart with your introduction, I don't want the pancakes to get cold.”

“Pancakes?” Thomas whispered in awe, “with cream and berries perhaps?”

“Yes, and with chocolate,” Robert licked over his lips like a small boy. “Let's hurry with the courtesies, Mathilda's pancakes are a dream. We all eat together when it's possible to do so since last summer, I don't like sitting alone with Oscar and Marco in the dining room while Mathilda, Sebastian and the others are eating in the kitchen. Even more because Erik, Nuri, Lars and Sven didn't come to Tübingen with us as they had to see to Castle Lindelborn over the winter.”

Erik and Nuri were two handsome young men who were obviously more than just friends, and Thomas felt comfortable in their company right from the start. He found his seat at Oscar's right side, the young boy sitting between him and his father, and he was happy when Mathilda sat down on his other side, serving him with a thick and fluffy pancake with cream and berries. The two maidservants Helena and Jenny sat opposite them together with Sven and Lars, and Thomas thought that they made for two lovely couples – at least if their glances at each other were any indication. Then came Nuri and Erik, and Sebastian had found his seat between Marco and the youngest servant Julian, who was a little bit shy but seemed to be as nice as the others.

The garden was filled with the buzzing of the bees and bumblebees collecting sweet nectar, and with the cheerful voices of the human residents living in Castle Lindelborn, and Thomas felt happy in his new home, thinking that his decision to come back to Germany last year was the best decision he'd made, because there was no better place to live in than the beautiful Pfälzer Forest with its friendly residents, its quaint red rocks and all the mighty castles and castle ruins that sat enthroned on top of the rocks and the green mountains.


	3. After A Long Day's Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and Bernd are about to spend their first night in their respective new temporary homes. This might be much easier for Thomas than it is for Bernd...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dearest friends,  
> I just came home after a very long and very tiring working day - including a parents' day in school after work - as well, so the title of this chapter is very fitting, I guess. :-) I have so much fun writing this story for you, I hope you will enjoy reading it. <33

“So, this is the room you will share with Marc as long as you'll work here, Bernd.” Manuel opened the door to the rather spacious spare room Marc-André had had for himself until now, pointing at the small cot next to the door. There was another bed at the other side of the room, a little bit bigger than the cot and standing between a wooden wardrobe and a large chest of drawers, and his younger cousin lifted his chin up and gestured at the other bed.

“If I have to share a room with a simple servant, then I want to at least choose where I'll sleep,” he snapped with arrogance written all over his face, but Manuel only leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

“This is Marc's bed, and it will stay Marc's bed. Don't you even think of ordering him to sleep on the cot, Bernd. Plus, it would suit yourself to remember that you'll have to work together with Marc over the next months, I expect you to treat him with respect and not insult him. Your father made perfectly clear how he wants me to treat you, and you're not on vacation here. Besides, Marc is a good employee who does his work with greatest care, I'm sure that you can learn a lot of useful things from him.”

Bernd crossed his arms before his chest as well, staring at Manuel with narrowed eyes. “Joseph is not my father!” he spat out, “he doesn't have any right to rule my life and treat me like that! Not to mention that I don't think that this stupid fool can teach me anything useful!”

“Uncle Joseph is the best thing that could happen to you and your mother, Bernd. He has always been much more patient with you than you deserved it, and he watched you ruin yourself and your life for far too long. You'll have to learn that money doesn't come from nothing and that it needs to be earned. Getting your hands dirty with hard and honest toil won't do you any harm – quite the opposite. And stop insulting Marc, he's had a hard life before he came to me. Not everyone is as lucky as you are, Bernd. You'd better not forget that! Don't test my patience too much, it would only serve to make your stay here harder than necessary.” Manuel had always been proud of his self-control, but he felt the urge to snap at Bernd himself now.

“You can't keep me here!” Bernd growled, but he sounded more scared and helpless than determined and angry. “I will find a way to return to civilization much faster than you'll even know!”

Manuel pursed his lips with a pointed look at Bernd's polished black shoes, which were most likely the height of fashion but looked pretty uncomfortable. “Good luck with that, cousin. The next train station is in Bad Bergzabern, and you'll have to walk there by foot. It's more than twelve kilometers, you you don't know the way and have to carry your heavy baggage, so you'll probably need much longer than it would normally take to go there. Plus, you don't have any money with you, and you won't get money for the ticket from me. Apart from that, the train stops in Bad Bergzabern only twice a week, so you'll have to find a place where you can stay until the next train does – which will be in three days only. We're in the Pfälzer Forest, not in Straßburg, Bernd. Not to mention that your father will send you somewhere else where you'll have to work much harder and sleep on a mattress on the floor if you dare going against his wishes.”

“I wouldn't return to him, I'm sure that my friends will grant me shelter,” Bernd murmured, and Manuel raised one of his eyebrows at him. “Ah, certainly. They will be delighted to feed you and pay for your expensive life style, won't they? Even more because it has always been the other way round – you paying for their expensive life style so far, right? I'm sure that they're more than eager to repay the debt and prove their undying friendship to you.”

Bernd blushed and lowered his head down. Manuel felt pity with him for a moment, because Bernd looked like the scared young boy he actually still was, but he knew better than to show his understanding and compassion for him.

“The work you have to do is actually not that hard, working in a factory or in the steelworks is much harder, believe me. You'll get one day off every week like Marc, and I'll pay you a regular salary for your work. It won't be as much as you'd been used to getting from your father without having to give him anything back, but it will be enough for your life here in the Pfalz.”

Bernd nodded his head in a subdued manner, hesitantly entering the room he would share with Marc-André from now on. Manuel didn't make the mistake of thinking that his young cousin had given up on his plans to flee from this 'horrible place' how he had called the Cramerhouse when he had climbed out of the comfortable carriage, but he wouldn't at least try to escape tonight, too tired, confused and scared to try and walk the entire way to Bad Bergzabern by night.

Tomorrow was another day, and Manuel hoped that he would be able to make Bernd see reason and accept that he had to stay with Manuel until his father would come back, and until this would hopefully be the case, he only needed to make sure that Bernd wouldn't find the money he kept in the house - and that his new temporary employee and Marc wouldn't kill each other.

That was probably the hardest part of his job he thought when he closed the door behind himself to give Bernd some time to lick his wounds. Marc hadn't looked pleased to put it nicely when Manuel had informed him about his new roommate either, and he could only hope that Marco wouldn't go for Bernd's throat tonight but give him the chance Bernd actually deserved to have.

 

***

 

The picnic had been wonderful, the pancakes delicious, and Thomas already felt at home when he made his way to the library later. Robert was nowhere to be seen when he entered the large room, only Marco, but Thomas guessed that his brother-in-law was still busied with putting his son to bed. Robert and Marco would leave Castle Lindelborn the day after tomorrow, and the last two nights before they left Oscar were reserved for them to put Oscar to bed. Thomas would gladly see to that duty when he was alone with Oscar, but he felt uncertain again when he realized that he was alone with Marco for the first time. It had been a long and straining day, and Thomas wasn't sure that he was ready to face Marco without Robert tonight, but he didn't have any other choice, because turning around and leaving the library would have been an offense.

Marco turned around with a smile when he heard Thomas' footsteps on the wooden floor, offering Thomas a glass filled with cognac. The alcohol had almost the same amber-golden color as Marco's eyes had, and Thomas took the glass to sip from the shimmering liquid.

“I hope that you don't mind me being here to spend time with Oscar, Marco,” he said when he had tasted the cognac, thinking that addressing the delicate topic of his former relationship with Robert openly was the better option than beating around the bush would be.

Marco regarded him for a moment, thinking carefully about his words. “You want to know if I'm jealous of you, don't you, Thomas?” Thomas nodded quietly, and Marco pursed his lips.

“Jealousy is not the right word, I guess. Of course I can't help but think of you as Robert's first love, but it's not that I hadn't been in love with someone else before I met Robert either. I don't begrudge you what you have shared with Robert, not the least, and I feel more sorry for what both of you had to go through when you were still so young than I can express in words. So much hurt and grief, and you had not only lost your love, but also your childhood friend and your sister. I don't think that I can even begin to understand how you felt back then – and surely still feel now and then.

You are Oscar's beloved uncle, one of his few relatives that are still left from both sides of his families. I would never want you to stay away from him – or from Robert – for my sake. You are Robert's brother-in-law, and you are his deeply missed friend above all things. I know how much he still cares about you and that he will always care for you, and Robert and I have talked openly about everything last year and a couple of weeks ago again when Oscar told us that he would love you to stay with him.

I hope that we can become friends as well one day, Thomas, not only because I know how much it would mean to Robert and Oscar, but because I really like you too. But I'm aware that this is much harder for you than it is for me, and I won't be offended if you want to keep your distance from me.  
You don't have to fear that I will take it the wrong way if I see you talking alone with Robert or so. I trust him, and I know how much he loves me, Thomas.”

Marco went silent, waiting patiently for Thomas' reaction. Thomas sipped from his cognac again, grateful that he had something to busy his hands with.

“Thank you for your honesty, Marco, I appreciate it a lot. You're right, it's still difficult for me, not because I'm still in love with Robert, but because the memory is still so fresh. I'd thought that ten years would have been enough to let it fade, but returning to Bad Bergzabern refreshed it somehow, and seeing Anna in Oscar's features is hard for me. I love him, and I'm excited to spend time with my nephew and get to know him better, but seeing Robert – together with you – will take me some time to get used to. But I like you too, and I really want us to be friends, I just need some time to come to terms with everything, Marco.”

“I can imagine. It's a good thing that you will have enough time for that, and that you'll have time alone with Oscar in between the weekends. I respect your friendship with Robert, and if I'll be jealous from time to time, then it will be my problem, not yours.”

“Thank you, Marco. Only few people are as generous as you are.”

“I'm not generous. I'm happy when Oscar and Robert are happy, and you being here makes them happy. Family is important and the most precious thing in the world, and you are family, Thomas.”

Marco lifted his glass, and Thomas did the same, enjoying how the alcohol burnt in his throat. His first day in Castle Lindelborn had been so much better than he could have hoped for, and this thanks to Oscar and Marco who had welcomed him so warmly. If he found a way to see Robert as a friend now only as well, then everything would be perfect, and Thomas was determined to find a way to let that happen.

The handsome innkeeper from the Cramerhouse appeared before his mind's eye again, and Thomas took another large sip from his cognac to distract himself from his unbidden thoughts, telling himself that he'd better not fall in love with anyone right after his arrival in Castle Lindelborn, even though he didn't know how to keep his stupid heart from beating faster at the prospect of seeing Manuel again.

 

***

 

Marc-André straightened his shoulders when he opened the door to his room after a long working day, reminding himself grimly of the fact that it wasn't his room any longer. It was not that Marc minded having to share a room with another person, as he'd never had a room on his own before Mr. Neuer had offered him a job and a place to stay.

When his parents had still been alive, Marc-André had shared a room with his old grandfather, and after their death he'd come to his uncle's household and slept on a straw mat on the floor in the small space that had been left between the staircase and the wall.

The spare room on the first floor in the Cramerhouse was bigger than the bedroom where his uncle and his aunt slept was, and Marc was still fearing that he was only dreaming once in a while, fearing that he would wake up from his dream and find himself lying on the moldy straw mat again.

Mr. Neuer was generous and kind and caring like his uncle had never been, treating him with respect and friendliness and praising him for his work and his efforts to help him. Mr. Neuer had never beaten him like his uncle had done so many times, and he never ordered him around, always adding the word 'please' to every request he had, and Marc adored and admired him with all he had, worshiping the ground the tall innkeeper was walking upon.

His hero worship for the kind innkeeper even made him fantasize that Mr. Neuer was not just his employer, but a real friend or perhaps even his older brother, but Marc was careful not to let his thoughts slip, keeping his distance to the older one and always addressing him with 'sir' or 'Mr. Neuer', no matter how often Manuel told him to call him by his first name.

The arrival of Manuel's younger cousin had thrown Marc off pretty badly, and he felt anxious and jealous of the other boy with the fancy clothes and the shiny shoes. Marc feared that the unwelcome newcomer would influence his admired employer and tell Mr. Neuer that Marc was not worthy enough to work for him, especially since Marc couldn't read and write. The friendly innkeeper had tried to teach him these skills, but it was an impossible task that had been bound to fail right from the beginning. Mr. Neuer had really done his best to teach him, but he had only little time for such things, and Marc had been too tired to comprehend the complicated signs that were supposed to be letters after a long working day.

Marc would never learn how to read and write, he was not intelligent enough for that, his uncle had already told him again and again that he was too dense and stupid for anything, not allowed to sit on the same table with his cousins to eat together with them as foolish and clumsy as he was. Marc-André did his best not to think back of the time he'd spent in his uncle's house, but sometimes he still dreamed of how he had sat on the floor under the staircase with his wooden bowl in his lap, filled with the thin broth he'd gotten as his dinner, together with a small slice of bread that was too hard and old to chew it.

Mr. Neuer made always sure that Marc ate three times a day, and Marc savored each and every bite of the delicious dishes that he was allowed to eat now. He had put on weight and muscles since the kind innkeeper had found him in his shack, and Marc feared that his new life would be taken away from him soon again because of Mr. Leno's unexpected arrival.

He had been so happy when the son of the Earl of Lindelborn had asked him to pluck berries with him today, thinking that he and Oscar could perhaps even become friends one day, but now everything was in danger, and all Marc wanted to do was to curl himself up in his bed and cry, but this was not possible with Mr. Neuer's younger cousin sleeping in the other bed.

His new roommate was sitting on the cot next to the entrance when he finally pushed the door open, flinching when the sound of Marc's footsteps rose him from his dark thoughts. He gazed up at Marc with a disgusted expression on his face, and Marc had a hard time keeping his own feelings at bay. He wouldn't let the other one see his fear and anger, and he would think of Mr. Neuer's request to try and not make it harder for his cousin than the sudden change of the life he'd known until today already must be for him.

Marc was tired and just wanted to go to bed anyway, and he closed the door behind himself and started off towards his own bed with a murmured “good evening”.

“So you are my cousin's praised employee,” the other blond snarled without bothering to return the greeting, “I can't see why you would deserve any praise! You're nothing more than a clodhopper and fool! You're not even worthy to polish my shoes!”

Marc couldn't suppress the violent flinch at Mr. Leno's harsh words, but his uncle and his own cousins had always called him much worse names, and he could hear the despair in the other boy's voice Mr. Neuer's young relative tried to hide behind his rude behavior so badly.

“I have other things to do than polish your shoes!” the snappy reply slipped out of his mouth before he could hold himself back, and he lifted his chin up defiantly when his new roommate rose to his feet to invade his personal space. “I have other things to do than polish your shoes, _sir_!” the spoiled young man growled dangerously, but Marc held his ground, staring into the other one's blue eyes. They were beautiful eyes, even though the shone with hatred and anger, but there was another emotion hidden underneath the hate and fury, an emotion Marc-André knew all too well himself: loneliness.

He didn't want to feel compassion and understanding for someone who looked at him as hateful as Mr. Leno did, but the shiver running down on his spine when the body heat of his rival seeped through his shirt was not a shiver of disgust but of something Marc didn't want to explore further. He stepped back, his jaw hurting from his gritted teeth.

“I'm tired, _sir_! I want to go to bed!” he snarled, turning around before Mr. Leno could find another way to insult him. He went over to his bed and started to strip down to his underwear, and he could still feel those blue eyes on him, burning a hole into his back with their intense gaze.

Marc refused to turn around again though, crawling under the covers and curling himself up into a small ball as if to protect himself. He lay there motionless and holding his breath until the quiet sounds of Mr. Leno finally getting ready for bed told him that he wouldn't have to fear another verbal or perhaps even physical attack tonight.

The sheets rustled when the other boy climbed onto his cot after turning off the oil lamp at the wall beside the door, and Marc was still awake when the room fell silent after Mr. Leno tossing and turning on his cot for a rather long time. He stared at the dark wall with vacant eyes, his hoarsely whispered words echoing unheard in the quiet room when Marc was sure that the other blond had fallen asleep:

“Good night, _sir_.”

 

***

 

The moon was shining onto the couple lying on the bed, its soft silvery rays caressing the entwined bodies like long and tender fingers.

Robert and Marco had sat together with Thomas in the library for two hours, talking about Oscar and the excavation he and Marco would join soon. Robert was happy to have his friend back, but it had been a long and exhausting day because of the business he had to see to before spending the next weeks mostly in Castle Trifels and Annweiler. Robert had decided to rent a hotel suite in the small city that lay nestled at the base of the mountain where Castle Trifels sat on top of it for the time of the excavation instead of driving back home every night.

The distance to Castle Lindelborn was actually not that large that they couldn't have come back home every night, but it would have been straining to do so, and Robert didn't want Marco to overdo it. His love tended to be inconsiderate of himself and neglect his own needs, thinking that Oscar and Robert's needs were more important, and Robert wanted him to enjoy the summer and the task awaiting them to the fullest.

Oscar was in the best hands possible with his uncle, and it was also crucial that they spent enough time with the other archaeologists and didn't have to hurry straight back home when it became too dark to work any longer.

Robert was tired, but his desire for his wonderful lover burnt higher than ever before, and he hadn't been able to resist Marco when he had snuggled close to him without any clothes as a barrier between them. They loved sleeping naked in each other's arms, and Marco was still relaxed and wide enough from their tryst a couple of hours earlier for Robert to take him without a long preparation.

Marco looked up at him with sparkling golden eyes, moving against him with the same desire and passion Robert felt for him. His sensitive lips were swollen from Robert's ardent kisses, and the young earl thought that there was nothing more beautiful in this world than his golden Marco shining with love and happiness.

“I love you, darling,” he whispered at his lips as he kissed him again, and the way Marco's short nails dug into his shoulders and his narrow hips arched up against him sent shivers of raw need down on his back.

“I love you too, Robert, more than words can tell,” Marco whispered back, moaning softly into his mouth. Robert could feel how close Marco already was, the gorgeous proof of his maleness rubbing hard and slick over Robert's abdomen with every powerful thrust. They had made love so many times over the last year, but Robert knew for sure that he would never stop desiring Marco, never grow tired of making love to him.

Marco moaned again because Robert changed the angle of his thrusts to make sure that he would come together with him, brushing over the sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside his lover's body with every push in now.

“I'm close, love, don't stop!” Marco gasped out, and Robert chuckled into his mouth. “I won't, darling, not before you have proved to me how much you desire me.”

Marco did prove to him that he was the only one his beloved teacher desired with the next thrust, arching his back with a strangled cry of ecstasy and spilling hot and wet between their connected bodies. The heavy shivers wrecking his lithe frame assured Robert that Marco's pleasure was as intense as he'd hoped that it would be, and he let go his self-control and followed his love over the edge, filling Marco with his seed until he was totally spent and had nothing more to give.

The cool night breeze on their flushed skin felt wonderfully, and Robert kissed Marco on his damp forehead when he had caught his breath again, smiling down at him with tender blue eyes.

“You are not hurt or feeling betrayed that I invited Thomas to spend the summer in our castle?” he asked, and Marco cupped his face with his hands. “Of course not, love. We've already talked about this, haven't we? Thomas is a wonderful young man, and he is Oscar's only uncle. He is your brother-in-law and your friend, and I hope that he will call me friend one day as well. I trust you, Robert. I know that you love me, I can see it in your eyes. I just hope that Thomas will find his own true love because it pains me to see him alone and still mourning his losses.”

Robert cleaned them up and lay down beside Marco to take him in his arms. “I feel the same way, I really hope that Thomas will allow himself to love again. And thank you for your understanding and your trust, darling, both mean a lot to me.”

“You will always have my trust and my understanding, love,” Marco yawned, curling himself up in Robert's arms with a small sound of satisfaction that sounded like the happy purr of a contented tomcat.

Robert pulled the blanket over their slowly cooling bodies, pressing a soft kiss onto Marco's tousled red-golden hair. “Just go to sleep, darling. It was a long day, and there is more work waiting for us tomorrow.”

“I don't mind working hard because I know that I will sleep in your arms after that. Sleep tight and wonderful dreams, love,” Marco purred, relaxing against Robert's side as he surrendered himself to the slumber of pleasant exhaustion.

Robert followed him not long after with a small smile curling at his lips, and his dreams were indeed pleasant and wonderful, as they were dreams about Marco and his sweet son Oscar, the two human beings Robert loved more in this world than anything else.


	4. The First Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bernd wakes up in the Cramerhouse for the first time, struggling with his new role as Manuel's temporary employee and the food Manuel is offering him. Marc is struggling with having an unexpected roommate and rival, and Manuel is struggling with having to teach his clueless cousin how to wash the dishes and with his unbidden fascination for a handsome young gentleman who happens to be Lord Lando's brother-in-law...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear friends, enjoy the new chapter, I'm still having quite a lot of fun writing this story for you! :-)

Bernd had needed a rather long time until he had been able to fall asleep, and he was still tired when he woke up the next morning, blinking against the haze that was clouding his mind. He groaned and turned on his other side, pulling the blanket over his head because the sun was just rising over the horizon judging by the grayish light falling through the window.

The blanket was pulled away with a harsh movement though, and Bernd peered up at the other boy staring down at him with a frown. “Lemme sleep! It's still in the middle of the night as dark as it is outside!” he complained, trying to get his covers back but to no avail.

“It's not. It's already dawning, and you don't want to be late on your first working day, _sir_ , do you?” Marc-André informed him, keeping Bernd's blanket in a tight grip and pulling it out of Bernd's reach. He looked annoyingly bouncy and eager to start into the new day, obviously enjoying that he had the upper hand for once. His archnemesis was already dressed and groomed, and Bernd was sure that he was only waiting to go downstairs and tell his uncle that his cousin was too lazy to get up and start working for him.

Bernd decided that he didn't want to give the other boy the satisfaction of peaching against him, and he struggled into a sitting position with another groan. He felt dizzy and his head was pounding with a bad headache, probably because of the small and rather hard mattress he'd had to spend an entire night upon.

Marc-André let his gaze travel over Bernd's disheveled appearance, but his expression gave nothing away of what he thought. “I'm downstairs. The restroom is behind the next door to the left – right before the staircase. You'll probably need your privacy for washing and getting dressed, _sir_.”

He turned around to leave the room before Bernd could come up with a proper answer to put him in his place, and Bernd stared at the closed door with gritted teeth for a moment before he finally got up to stagger over to the washstand. The water in the bowl was cold and Bernd shivered in the chilly morning air, his eyes filling with hot tears when a strong wave of homesickness hit him without any warning.

The previous evening he'd been too tired to feel homesick and realize what his stepfather had actually done to him when he'd brought him here, but the prospect of having to spend the summer here in the middle of nowhere, far away from his friends and his mother, was pretty scary and formed a huge lump in his throat.

Bernd angrily splashed the cold water into his face, but his tears simply wouldn't stop falling, and he slumped down on the wooden floor to wrap his arms around his knees and bury his face in them as he desperately cried his heart out, choking on his tears and his homesickness so badly that his heart felt like being ripped apart and into tiny pieces that would never be whole again.

 

***

 

Marc tried to ignore his bad conscience as he descended the stairs to start another long working day with the hearty breakfast Mr. Neuer always offered him so kindly. Mr. Leno had looked so confused and lonely after Marc had woken him up rather rudely, and he had actually felt sympathy with him but suppressed it right away again, not willing to give his unwelcome roommate any credit until he'd proved himself worthy of Marc's approval.

The conceited and arrogant young gentleman really deserved to feel this way, finally experiencing what it meant not to be on the bright side of life for once.

Marc had never been on the bright side of life until that fateful winter night when Mr. Neuer had found him crouching on the cold floor of his shack, sick and weakened with a bad cold and a high fever that was raging inside his thin body. Marc still remembered his mortal fear when he had blinked into the yellow light of the oil-lamp, expecting the tall and broadly built innkeeper to beat him to death right there and then. But instead of killing him for his trespass, Mr. Neuer had taken him on his strong arms and carried him over to his inn to put him to bed in his spare room without asking any questions, telling him that everything was fine now and that he didn't need to be afraid any longer. Mr. Neuer had fed him with milk with honey, broth and porridge, and he'd nursed him back to health with seemingly endless patience until his young charge had recovered fully and was strong enough to sit for a while and tell him his story.

Mr. Neuer had listened to him silently and with anger darkening his kind blue eyes, an anger that was not aimed at him but at his cruel uncle as Marc-André had realized with astonishment.

 

***

 

_“I swear if I'll ever meet your uncle in person, I cannot grant for his well-being. He really deserves to be beaten with his own belt and to sleep on the hard floor with thin broth as his only meal for a couple of months himself. Even though I highly doubt that he would learn anything from such a lesson. I'm so sorry for what happened to you when you were still a child and incapable of defending yourself, and I really wished that I could undo the horrible things that he did to you. I can't, but I can offer you a new home if you'd like to have one. I could really need some help here, Marc,” Mr. Neuer had said, “what do you think about staying in the Cramerhouse to work for me? You can have the spare room, I can't use it for my guests anyway because it is rather small and dark because of the small window. You'd have three meals and I would pay you a comfortable weekly salary of ten dimes.”_

_Marc had feared that he was only dreaming all of this, gaping at the kind innkeeper with big eyes. The spare room where Mr. Neuer had sat on a hard chair beside his bed when he had been so sick was larger and brighter than any other room Marc remembered from his childhood home and his uncle's house, and the dishes Mr. Neuer and his maidservant Lisbeth cooked for him were delicious and downright sumptuous considering what Marc had gotten to eat before he had found his way to the Cramerhouse and met his personal hero._

_“But, but I cannot write and read, sir, and I've never learned how to cook and...” he had stammered, bursting out in tears because no one had ever treated him like a human being with rights and needs ever since his parents had died, deeply ashamed of his tears and trying to regain his self-control but failing miserably. Mr. Neuer had just taken him in his arms and let him cry on his shoulder like a loving father or brother would do though, humming gently into his ears and rubbing soothing circles on his back. He had waited patiently until Marc had pulled himself together again, smiling friendlily at him and ignoring the traces of Marc's tears on his cheeks when he'd repeated his offer._

_“Maybe I can teach you reading and writing, Marc, but if not, then it doesn't matter. And you don't need to cook four our customers, Lisbeth and I will do that. I will show you a few things so you can cook for the two of us when we're alone once in a while, but you don't have to fear that you'll have to cook for other people and customers. But I really need help with the daily business like cleaning and chopping wood and repairs and so on. My foot is still giving me troubles, and I don't want to ask Erik and Nuri from Castle Lindelborn for help too often.”_

_“Do you really mean it, sir?” Marc had mumbled, his heart beating fast in his chest with joy and hope. “I'll be the best servant in the whole world, Mr. Neuer, I promise you!”_

_“I know that you'll be, Marc. Let's celebrate the start of your new job then, alright?” Mr. Neuer had gone over to the counter to pour himself and Marco a glass of his best wine, and Marc had thought that this was not only the start of his new job, his first real job he'd be paid for generously at all. It was also the start of his new, much happier life, a life he'd always dreamed of without ever thinking that his dream would actually come true one day._

 

***

 

It had been so much easier for him than it must be for Mr. Leno, Marc-André thought when he entered the taproom to set up the table in the kitchen for breakfast. Mr. Neuer was already busied with making coffee and cooking his delicious porridge Marc loved so much, smiling at him with a brief morning greeting. Marc's life had been a horrible nightmare before he had found his way to the Cramerhouse, so Mr. Neuer's offer had been more than Marc could ever have wished and hoped for, while Mr. Leno's life had been easy and without him knowing anything about what it really meant to actually work for his living.

“Good morning, Mr. Neuer,” he said, hesitating a moment before adding a cautious, “your cousin will join us soon. He's not used to getting up before the sun is already shining brightly, I guess.”

Mr. Neuer chuckled with a wink of his eye. “You could be right with that, Marc. He needs to learn that he'll have to get up at dawn as long as he's working with us, but I think that we should give him a day or two before we'll pour cold water onto his face to make him get up faster, what do you think?” It was clear that Marc's employer was only joking, because Marc couldn't imagine that Mr. Neuer would ever do something like this. His voice was fond and understanding, and Marc felt warmth pooling in his belly because Mr. Neuer had said 'as long as he's working with us' instead of 'as long as he's working for me' – which made a huge difference in Marc's opinion.

“You're right, sir. Mr. Leno should be given a day or two to settle in,” he agreed much to his own surprise, blushing when the older one regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “Uh, he told you to call him 'Mr. Leno' and 'sir', didn't he?” Mr. Neuer asked, and Marc bit his lip and averted his eyes. “It's better this way, sir,” he murmured, and Mr. Neuer sighed. “And here I was hoping that you'd finally start calling me Manuel. Seems that I was wrong with that if you even call my cousin sir, although he isn't older than you and still has to prove that he's worthy to be addressed this way.”

“It wouldn't be appropriate to call you by your first name, Mr. Neuer,” Marc defended himself, even though he really wished that he could work up the courage and call his admired employer by his first name. The innkeeper just shot him another sidelong glance but let go of the dangerous topic – to Marc's relief as much as to his disappointment. He simply turned back to the stove to stir in the pot, and Marc went on with setting the table, telling himself that some dreams better remained dreams instead of actually coming true – no matter how much he wished that it would be otherwise.

 

***

 

Bernd entered the kitchen with a cautious glance half an hour later, mumbling something that could be taken as morning greeting if one had a lot of imagination, that was. Manuel just smiled at him and pointed at the vacant chair opposite where Marc was sitting. His cousin slumped down on the chair with a murmured “thank you”, careful to avoid Manuel's attentive gaze. It wasn't lost on Manuel that Bernd's eyes were suspiciously red-rimmed and his face rather blotchy, but he knew better than to comment on that and increase Bernd's discomfort with such a remark in front of Marc-André. He was sure that his young employee had noticed Bernd's tears as well, but he only offered the bowl with steaming porridge to his new roommate without saying anything about Bernd's tears either.

Bernd stared at the bowl with a disgusted expression. “Porridge?” he asked, apparently not used to having only one dish served for breakfast. Porridge was a good way to start a hard and long working day, it was rather easy and quick to make and it was satiating for several hours. Marc loved his porridge, especially when Manuel added cream to it like he'd done it today, and Manuel had taught him how to cook this simple but delicious dish himself when the boy had shyly told him after his long sickness that his porridge was the most wonderful dish Marc had ever tasted.  
Marc-André raised his head from his bowl now with a frown, scowling at the other blond, angry at Manuel's behalf and apparently thinking that Bernd was far too spoiled and ungrateful. Manuel knew that it was only partly Bernd's fault, and he just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

“You're welcome to make breakfast for us in the future if you want scrambled eggs, toast, bacon and self-made jam. Marc and Oscar plucked a lot of cherries and strawberries yesterday, there should be enough left for making some delicious jam out of them. Lisbeth would be very grateful for some help in the kitchen.”

Bernd blushed furiously before turning snow-white when he found both Manuel and Marc looking expectantly at him. “Uhm, I... I don't know how to cook,” he admitted after a couple of seconds of awkward silence, staring down at his still empty bowl miserably.

“Hmm, I see. Then you'll have to get used to having porridge for breakfast, I fear. There is some bread left from the other day, you can dip it into your porridge if you like that better,” Manuel stated unmoved, pushing the pot with the coffee in Bernd's direction. “Please help yourself, cousin, you need to hurry a bit, we really need to start working soon.”

Bernd poured coffee into his mug with trembling fingers before he took the spoon and served himself a small portion of the warm mush, hesitantly reaching out for the slice of dark bread Manuel handed to him. He regarded it as if he'd never seen granary bread before though – which was most likely the case, Manuel thought without feeling surprised about that.  
His young cousin probably knew only white toast, but toast didn't sate as long and good as wholemeal bread did when you were a tall grown-up hard-working man, and Lisbeth's granary loaf was the best in the entire region. Manuel's customers and patronage loved it just as much, and Manuel served the bread together with his famous _'Pfälzer Dish'_ , consisting of stuffed pig's stomach, sausages, bacon and liver dumplings with sauerkraut.

“Uhm, thank you.” Bernd took a cautious bite from the bread, watched by Marc with eagle eyes. He chewed and chewed and chewed, his expression the expression of someone who'd been forced to eat worms for the first time in his life. It was obvious that he had a hard time swallowing the bite down, and Manuel suppressed a smirk and jerked his head at the mug with coffee sitting next to Bernd's bowl. “It's better to chew when it's fresh, but I spare the new loaf for our customers. Try to swallow it with the coffee. You'll get used to it over the next weeks.”

Bernd did as he'd been told, gulping the bread down together with a large sip of his coffee, burning his tongue in the process of course, as the coffee was still too hot to drink it without blowing over it to cool it down. He made a strangled sound of pain and started to cough, and Manuel patted his back while Marc pushed his chair back with a loud noise, unable to watch Bernd eat his hearty breakfast with such disgust.

“I'll be outside chopping wood, _sir_ ,” he said, emphasizing the word 'sir' and shooting Bernd a sidelong glance. It was clear to see that he needed to work up some of the anger he felt, and Manuel knew better than to keep him from doing that. They would need wood for the stove anyway, and Marc was very skilled when it came to such rather dangerous tasks. His uncle had forced him to chop wood from the day on Marc had joined his household, when he had been nothing more than a tiny and far too thin ten-year-old boy. Manuel knew that Marc would be careful and not put himself in danger despite of his anger because of Bernd's demeanor.

“Yes, do that, Marc, thank you. I'll need you to show Bernd around and tell him what he'll be supposed to do over the next weeks when you're finished.”

Marc nodded. “Of course, sir,” he said, putting his empty bowl, his mug and his spoon into the sink. “I'll wash the dishes later, Mr. Neuer. I want to chop the wood as long as it's still cool enough outside,” he said – more for Bernd's sake than for Manuel actually, as they were a well-working team for months by now and Manuel knew that Marc would never even think of neglecting his duties.

“Oh, I think that's something Bernd could start with. Washing the dishes is a rather simple job, I'm sure that he'll be happy to start with an easier task,” Manuel said, being all smiles. Bernd's eyes went big at that, and he swallowed several times. “But I've never done that before!” he objected, looking almost scared.

“Hmm, really? There is a first time for everything, my dear cousin, and today is the day where many firsts will happen then, I guess. I'll show you, don't worry. You only need hot water and soap.”

Bernd didn't look convinced, but Manuel ignored his pleading glance in Marc's direction, telling the other boy to leave them alone with his eyes. Marc-André did after a moment or two, shaking his head and murmuring something to himself that didn't sound like a compliment.

Manuel leaned back in his chair with a small smile curling at his lips, watching Bernd chew on his porridge. The next days would definitely be very interesting, and poor Bernd would have a lot of lessons to learn, that much was sure. Maybe teaching and supervising his young cousin would also help Manuel to forget a pair of astonishing hazel-blue eyes. Mr. Müller was Lord Robert's brother-in-law and a wealthy and distinguished gentleman above all things. He surely didn't waste a single thought about innkeepers who didn't have time to sit around in fancy clothes and talk about politics, horse races and the last rumors and gossip while smoking expensive cigars and drinking wine when it was still bright outside.

It was better to forget him before it was too late, and Manuel rose to his feet with a determined motion, waiting for his cousin to do the same. Dreaming of things he could never have had never been Manuel's habit, and he wouldn't start doing that now of all times. Marc and Bernd needed him, and Manuel was happy with his life the way it was, he really didn't need a handsome stranger to turn his head now of all times.

“Alright, you need to boil water in that large pot at first, then you can pour it into the sink together with some cold water to get the right temperature,” he started to explain, hoping that his resolve wouldn't crumble the next time Mr. Müller would find his way into the Cramerhouse – which was likely to happen soon if Manuel wasn't mistaken - because Oscar loved visiting Manuel and Lisbeth and now Marc-André as well.

Manuel pushed the thought aside, focusing on explaining Bernd what he had to do for washing the dishes in the future, wondering what he'd gotten himself into when he had agreed to Uncle Joseph's request when he saw the puzzled look on Bernd's face.

Bernd really didn't have any clue about daily life and how things worked, and Manuel could only hope that he hadn't promised his uncle too much when he'd said that he would teach Bernd a lesson.

It was too late now to take his offer back, and Manuel would make the best out of the situation as always, no matter how hard it would be. The Neuer family had never given up when life had thrown obstacles and hardships in their way, always making the best out of everything and finding a solution for their problems, and Manuel wouldn't be the first one to break with this tradition, neither now, nor one day in the future.


	5. Different Experiences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas has a nice start in Castle Lindelborn, while Bernd's first two days in the Cramerhouse are pretty hard work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear friends,  
> this chapter was surprisingly hard to write, and I needed several days to finish it. I hope it's not too bad and boring. <33  
> I didn't expect Bernd and Marco to become such an important part of this story, but they insisted on it, so here we go. Thomas and Manuel will get some interaction again within the next chapters too, I promise.

Thomas' first day in Castle Lindelborn started as well as he could possibly have wished for. The sun was already shining brightly when a small figure sneaked into his room and tickled him to wake him up, and Thomas was all too happy to wrestle playfully with his sweet nephew for a while before he finally got up for a quick washing and dressing with comfortable clothes.

He was eager to explore the castle together with Oscar, and he enjoyed his breakfast in the large and friendly kitchen much more than the lonely breakfasts he'd had in bad Bergzabern when Robert's school had closed for the summer.

Marco was already sitting at the table and talking to Mathilda and Sebastian, telling Thomas that Robert was working in the library to see to his business for at least two hours already, and that he would have lunch with them and spend the afternoon together with Thomas and Oscar. They would leave Castle Lindelborn early the next morning, and the young earl wanted to spend at least a few hours together with his son and his old childhood friend before they would be away for five days.

Marco was a much more pleasant company than Thomas could ever have expected him to be, and the next hours passed by quickly, Oscar and Marco showing Thomas around in the proud ancient walls and answering to each and every question Thomas had with amazing patience and knowledge. They had lunch under the lime tree again, and Robert was relaxed and smiling when he appeared in the garden to spend the rest of the day together with them.

Oscar was beaming all over his face and laughing, and Thomas' heart clenched when he saw his sweet smile, a smile that reminded him so much of his beloved sister. Anna had died far too young, and Thomas' only consolation was that she'd written him a letter before Oscar's birth, telling him that she loved him and that she wasn't angry with him any longer because of his secret relationship to Robert before their wedding any longer. He had written a long letter to her after that, and he hoped that Anna had read it and known how much he loved her before she had left this world.

The afternoon went by with playing games and a nice walk, Oscar running in front of them while Marco, Robert and Thomas followed a little bit slower. Seeing Robert laughing and so happy with Marco made Thomas happy and sad at the same time, and his thoughts wandered back to the tall innkeeper again, even though he did his best not to lose himself in foolish daydreams about the fascinating man that would never come true.

Mr. Neuer had surely better things to do than waste his time with small talk, courtesies and humoring young teachers, he was a hard working man who had to see to his customers and the daily business that came with running such a large inn. Thomas had worked in a tavern on his early days in America to earn money and knew how hard and straining running an inn actually was. He came from an old and wealthy family in Bad Bergzabern, but he hadn't had access to his heritage before his twenty-fifth birthday, and Thomas had never been the lazy kind of guy anyway. He'd started studying in Mannheim, where he'd met Robert again, but when Robert had married his sister, all Thomas had wanted to do was to bring as much distance between them and himself as possible.

His father hadn't been happy about his decision and only provided him with enough money for the passage, hoping that his son would come back to Germany when he ran out of money and had to work for the first time in his life. Thomas had been too stubborn to merely think of doing that, searching for a job and working in a tavern and a factory at the beginning before finishing his studies in America and becoming a college teacher.

He'd lived a rather happy life there, but his father's sickness and then death had forced him to come back to his home, and somehow he hadn't been able to return to Boston where he had lived over the past four years when he had set foot in his old home anymore. The business his father had had was in the best hands possible with Robert, as Thomas had never been interested in becoming a merchant himself, his passion had always been science and teaching children to grant them a good life. When Robert had offered him the post in his school and assured him that he would see to his father's business as if it was his own, Thomas hadn't needed to think twice and agreed to his offer right away.

He actually didn't need to work for his living, and he used the salary Robert insisted to pay him for those of his students who really needed it, suspecting that Robert knew what he was doing with his money. They had never talked about it, and Thomas was fine with how things were between them, but there was still the memory of Robert's kisses, and seeing Robert happy with Marco made him realize and feel his own loneliness even more.

Therefore he was relieved that Oscar was allowed to have dinner with them in the dining room on Robert and Marco's last evening before they would leave, and he pretended to be tired and excused himself early to call it a night when Oscar had been put to bed and wasn't there to serve as a cushion between him and the happy couple so obviously in love.

“You should ask Oscar about his friend Kuno, Thomas,” Marco said with a smile when Thomas stood up to cross the library where they had withdrawn after dinner to have a drink and talk about Oscar's studies.

“Kuno?” he gave back, and Marco chuckled. “Kuno is the fearsome ghost protecting Castle Lindelborn. At least he's fearsome when it comes to the bad guys. Kuno and I have become real good friends after our first cautious encounter, and I'm sure that you will like him. He will show you the castle by night if you ask Oscar to talk to him and let him know that you want to meet him,” Marco explained, ignoring Robert's raised eyebrow and slight frown.

“It's summer and Oscar doesn't need to get up that early. Being Kuno for an hour by night won't harm him,” was the only thing he said in the direction of the young father, turning his head to hide his grin from his love.

“He's still growing, he needs his sleep.” Robert's attempt to be reasonable was in vain, and he knew that.

“He's an eleven-year-old boy who needs to have some stupid fun once in a while,” Marco chided the young earl gently, shooting Thomas a sidelong glance. “And Thomas could obviously do with some stupid fun as well.”

“If you say so,” Robert gave back with a fond smile. “But not every night, Thomas.”

Thomas stopped by the door. “I will take good care of Oscar, Robert, please don't worry. But spooking around at midnight actually sounds like fun, so I hope that Kuno will be inclined to show up and introduce himself to me.”

“He will. You just shouldn't mix up their names, it is important to Oscar that his true identity won't be revealed by accident when he slips into the role of ghost Kuno.”

Thomas nodded. “I will think of that and be careful, Marco, thank you. I wish you goodnight.”

“We wish you the same, Thomas. We're glad that you're here,” Robert said, and Thomas left the library to make his way to his own rooms and curl himself up in his large but lonely bed, dreaming of blue eyes he wasn't sure whether they belonged to Robert or to the handsome innkeeper he couldn't stop thinking of.

 

***

 

Bernd's head was spinning at the end of his first day in the Cramerhouse, and he was so tired that he didn't even pay attention to what he was eating when the last customer had left the inn and the three of them sat down in the kitchen for their own late dinner. Lunch had been a hasty matter long after Bernd's meager breakfast, and he felt sick and dizzy with hunger, but he was so tired and exhausted that he couldn't swallow much from the hearty stew Manuel's maidservant had cooked for them before she had left the Cramerhouse to go back to her home in Darstein.

Manuel had shown him how to wash the dishes, and Bernd had burnt his fingers with the hot water because he didn't know the right mixture of hot and cold water. His skin was red and rough from scrubbing the big pots, and his arms and shoulders were hurting from the unfamiliar work. He had ruined his former neat white shirt with the foam and the leftovers of the dishes that had been glued to the plates, and his back hurt badly from standing all day long and from sweeping the wooden floor of the large taproom three times. Bernd really had no clue how his cousin and Marc could look so fresh and well after the terribly long day and all the straining and boring work, and this even though they had worked much harder than Bernd.

Manuel had carried heavy barrels filled with wine and beer, and Marc had served the customers balancing coutnless heavily loaded platters on his arms for hours. Bernd had to admire him for what he did, being even a little bit younger than Bernd himself was, but he would of course never admit that out loud, giving only snappy and grumpy answers whenever Manuel's young employee addressed him to inform him about his next task.

He was grateful when Manuel told him that he would wash the dishes himself this time, stumbling upstairs and falling onto his small cot when he'd emptied only half of his bowl. He was too tired to wait for Marc coming back to their shared room as well, falling asleep the minute his head touched the pillow.

The following day was even worse than his first day in the Cramerhouse and working for Manuel had been though. He could barely sit up on his cot when Marc shook him awake, telling him strictly that he needed to get up and ready for work. Bernd's feet felt as if someone had tied heavy weights to them, and his former fancy and shiny black shoes were too tight and too small for his poor toes all of a sudden. Bernd could barely stand upright because his back hurt so much from the previous day and sleeping on the hard and small cot, and Bernd felt too tired and dizzy to have more than coffee for breakfast.

Neither Manuel nor Marc-André commented on his lack of appetite or his red and swollen eyes, but they didn't spare him either, loading one task after the other upon his shoulders. Bernd had to wash the dishes again, sweep the floor one more time, even though it was still sparkling from the last time he'd swept it after the last customer had left the inn yesterday evening – at least in Bernd's opinion.

“Oh no, just look – you forgot the corners yesterday, _sir_!” was all Marc said, and Bernd really hated him for a moment. He took the broom and swept the floor another time, his eyes filling with tears because of the sharp pain shooting through his damaged toes every time he moved. But he gritted his teeth and didn't say anything, following Marc-André to the large meadow behind the inn when he had carefully swept the corners as well.

His cousin was busied in the kitchen and the pantry, listing the supplies he wanted to buy on the market and from some of the farmers living in Darstein. There was a large shack behind the cellar where the small carriage and the larger wain Manuel possessed were housed, and Bernd was surprised when the other boy pointed at the shack and said:

“That's where Mr. Neuer found me last January. I'd lived on the streets since my uncle had thrown me out of his house, and it was so cold that I cracked the lock and broke into his shack. I had caught a bad fever, and I thought that he would beat me to death for my burglary. That's what my uncle would have done at least.”

Bernd swallowed. “My cousin would never harm a boy,” he heard himself saying, “and surely not when when he's sick and without a home.”

Marc-André turned his head away. “No, he wouldn't.”

Silence fell over them for a moment before Marc cleared his throat. “Mr. Neuer has three horses, we keep them on the meadow during the summer months. But we need to see to their water trough, feed them with oat two times a week and clear away the dung from the meadow. One of the farmers comes on a regular basis to use it for his fields.”

Bernd suppressed a shudder of disgust and a dry retch, limping behind Marc-André to the meadow. It didn't take long until his former so fancy shoes were coated with grass and dung and his now gray and stained shirt was soaked wet with sweat. Marc on the other hand looked still fresh and his motions were spirited and showed that he didn't do this for the first time, and Bernd really hated him for that again. He felt sick from the sharp stench of the dung, and he could hardly lift his arms over his head anymore because of the horrible pain in his back and his shoulders.

The only nice things were Manuel's beautiful horses, a black cart-horse with wonderful brown eyes and two Arabs, one of them black as well, while the other one was a magnificent fox-colored stallion. The black Arab was a gelding, but as vivid as his brother, and Bernd fell in love with them right at first sight. He was actually a good rider, and he spent some minutes with stroking Nightfall and Stormracer and whispering into their twitching ears.

To his surprise, Marc-André let him do that, taking care of the last heaps of horse turd without chiding him. He filled the water trough with fresh water and checked Nightfall, Stormracer and Northstar how he called the cart horse for injuries and other problems with practiced movements before nodding contentedly and telling him that they had to go back and prepare everything for the first customers now.

Bernd limped back to the Cramerhouse with a terrible headache drumming behind his temples, and the rest of the day went by in a haze with more sweeping and washing and serving. He could hardly move his little finger any longer when Manuel allowed him to sit down for a while when he had washed the last pot, and he really didn't know how he should get up again and climb the stairs. He chewed on the slice of granary bread without tasting anything, and he didn't even care about the glance his cousin and Marc exchanged.

They were most likely laughing about him when he wasn't around, and Bernd felt a lump in his throat and hot tears stinging in his eyes again.

“You can go to bed, Bernd, you look tired,” Manuel said after a moment, and Bernd nodded gratefully. “Thank you, cousin,” was all he could croak out, and he couldn't hide a strangled cry of pain when he stood up and his body weight pressed down on his tortured toes. He bit down on his bottom lip until he could taste blood to suppress another cry and drew in a shaky breath, telling himself that it was only a few meters he had to walk before he could eventually get rid of his shoes for today. He directed his eyes at the exit and the empty taproom as he started to limp and scuttle towards the stairs, fighting against his tears with grim determination.

He wouldn't give Marc-André the satisfaction of seeing him cry, and he stifled another groan when he started to climb the stairs, slowly step by step, until he finally reached the first floor and could shuffle to the room he shared with the other boy.

The sight of his hard and small cot formed another lump in his throat, but it also made him think of what Marc had told him about his first meeting with Manuel again. Bernd knew that a lot of people would have been happy to sleep on that cot, but he really missed his own large and cozy bed. The mattress was hard and would cause him more pain, but he should probably be grateful that his stepfather hadn't decided to let him work in a factory and sleep in one of those shacks that belonged to the factories and where twenty men slept in the same room on uncomfortable bunk beds.

Bernd undressed his shirt with slow and tired motions, shivering when he washed his arms and his torso with the cold water from the washstand as thoroughly as possible. He sat down on his cot to unlace his shoes and pull them off, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut when the torture equipment finally came off. His sock were glued to the countless blisters covering his toes and his heels, and Bernd gritted his teeth and gasped loudly when he pulled at the garments to remove them.

His feet were red and swollen, and he had several blisters that were bleeding and actually more open wounds than blisters. Bernd balled his fists when he stared down, asking himself how he should be able to work the next day when he could hardly walk and the mere thought of having to wear his shoes again made him feel sick with fear and pain.

The sound of the door made him flinch, and he shied away when Marc entered the room and stopped beside his cot.

“That doesn't look good, sir,” he stated the obvious, and Bernd steeled himself for some mocking remarks, but Marc only went over to the washstand to take the bowl and put it down on the floor before Bernd's feet. “Why didn't you say anything? We need to see to your feet and treat them, otherwise you're in danger to catch a bad infection. Fair enough, I'll get some fresh water and the ointment we use for the horses. We need to bandage your feet for a few days until the wounds have healed, Mr. Leno.”

Bernd didn't move, tired down to his bones, but the pain throbbing in his head, his back, his arms and most of all in his feet kept him from falling asleep right where he sat. His archnemesis came back after a few minutes, pouring water into the bowl and putting some bandages and a small pot on the floor before the cot. He knelt down before Bernd and took his left foot in his hand to roll up the stained and dusty leg of his former black trousers without blinking. He was dunking Bernd's foot into the cool water before Bernd could prepare himself for the stinging sensation that shot through his toes and his entire leg when the water washed over his torn skin and bleeding flesh, and he pulled the air through his teeth with a loud hiss.

“Yes, I know, I'm sorry, but it will be better soon, sir,” Marc said, his voice surprisingly compassionate and friendly, and he didn't even emphasize the word 'sir' in that sarcastic way this time. Bernd had expected mockery and that Marc would tell him that everything was his own fault, but the other boy remained silent and focused on his task of washing the dirt and the thin threads of his socks where the blood had glued them to the blisters from his feet

Bernd was too tired and confused to talk either, and so he simply watched Marc tending to his feet, washing them carefully before smearing the special ointment onto the blisters and swollen toes with gentle fingers. The ointment hurt less than Bernd had feared that it would do, and the bandages brought some relief and eased the sharp pain in his toes.

“Thank you,” he mumbled hoarsely, suddenly wishing that the other boy would call him Bernd and not 'sir' or Mr. Leno all of the time. It was his own fault that Marc did that – like everything was his fault though - and he didn't dare asking him to use his birth name after all he'd said and done. Marc looked up at him, chewing thoughtfully and uncertainly on his lip. “You can have the bed,” he finally said to Bernd's surprise, rising to his feet to cross the room and start removing the sheets from the mattress after taking fresh bed clothes out of the chest of drawers beside his bed.

“Oh, but... my cousin said that it's your bed...” Bernd murmured, and Marc craned his neck to look over his shoulder. “It is, but you need it more than I do, sir. You're hurting, and I have slept on much harder grounds than an actually rather comfortable cot.”

“You don't need to do that...”

“I know. But I want to.” Marc took his pillow and his blanket to carry them over to Bernd's cot. “Can you stand up, please? I need to change the sheets.” Bernd struggled to his feet with a groan, waddling over to Marc's bed. The other boy had put fresh sheets onto the mattress, and Bernd balanced on one leg to undress his trousers because he didn't want to get the sheets dirty with his clothes. It felt like heaven to lie down on the bed, and Bernd knew that he had to have a bad conscience, but he was too tired even for that.

Marc brought him his pillow and his blanket before leaving the room to use the restroom, and Bernd closed his eyes, thinking that he would fall asleep right away.

But sleep didn't come to him, and Bernd was still awake when Marc had turned off the lights a rather long time ago. He stared at the dark ceiling, feeling dizzy with exhaustion, but he just couldn't fall asleep, and he curled himself up to a small ball and started to cry into his pillow when another wave of homesickness washed over him. He tried to muffle his sobs with the pillow, and he pulled his blanket over his head and let his tears soak the soft linen.

A gentle hand stroking over his hair made him flinch, but the hand didn't go away, just kept stroking his head rhythmically. Marc didn't speak, but he sat down on the edge of the bed and offered silent comfort with his gentle caresses, never faltering in his doing until Bernd's tears finally dried and the deep slumber of exhaustion claimed him.


	6. Unexpected Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manuel decides that Bernd needs some proper shoes and a serious talk, leaving the Cramerhouse to drive to Bad Bergzabern with his cousin, and Oscar decides that he wants to visit his new friend together with his Uncle Thomas...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear friends,  
> I had this chapter clear in my mind and didn't want to let you wait for too long. It is written from Thomas and Manuel's POV again, and Bernd didn't cooperate with my plans and decided that he wants to be less stubborn and arrogant in the near future. I hope that you won't mind his early change, but he really wants to be nice to Marc from now on... We'll see what Marc has to say to that and whether or not he will be nice to Bernd in the following chapters as well... ;-)

The sun still hadn't risen over the horizon when Manuel got up to get ready for the day and prepare everything for a quick breakfast. Marc had come down again the previous evening to ask for the special ointment they used for the horses and their own cuts and scratches that came with working as hard as they did, and he'd also gotten some bandages and fresh water. Manuel hadn't needed to ask what he needed these things for, already knowing that it was Bernd and not Marc himself who needed some medical care and treatment.

He had of course noticed Bernd's limping, but he hadn't realized how bad it actually must be as his younger cousin could be pretty stubborn and had hidden his pain and his problems rather well. Manuel chided himself for not having paid better attention, but he had been in Darstein and on the market for hours to buy new supplies, and he had also thought that Bernd would be mature and reasonable enough to tell him if there was something seriously wrong with him.

Which his cousin obviously hadn't done, and it was up to Manuel now to avoid more damage and make sure that Bernd would get proper boots and clothes he could actually work in without getting blisters and other serious wounds.

The tall innkeeper sighed and rubbed his forehead, wishing not for the first time that he hadn't promised his uncle to take Bernd under his wings for a couple of months and teach him the lesson his stepfather wanted him to be taught. He really wasn't sure that he would be able to do that, and he also feared that Marc would have to suffer and close up again because of Bernd.

The porridge was already steaming in the large bowl when Manuel heard footsteps on the staircase, and he felt a huge wave of relief surging through him when he saw Marc-André supporting Bernd on his way downstairs. Bernd was limping badly and white like snow around his nose, but he gritted his teeth and held his chin up high as he shuffled his way to the kitchen.

The two boys avoided to look at each other, but they didn't look as if they had been fighting, more as if they didn't know how to handle their unexpected sudden truce. Bernd had put on a new shirt, but he still wore his former black trousers that were actually not meant for working in an inn or on a meadow, but more for sitting around lazily in a club or a library, and they looked ridiculous together with the wooden clogs Marc had lent him. It was obvious that Bernd had never learned how to walk in clogs, and his sore feet only added to his pretty awkward way of walking - which was a strange mixture of hopping, stalking, waddling and limping at the same time.

Manuel would actually have started to laugh at the funny sight, but the pain showing so clearly in Bernd's eyes and his own compassionate nature helped him to keep his own expression straight and impassive.

“Good morning, Bernd, good morning, Marc. Breakfast is ready, we need to hurry a bit,” was all he said when they finally reached the table, and Bernd gritted his teeth and shuffled forward to pull the chair where he usually sat and slump down on it with a groan of both pain and relief. Marc-André let go of him only reluctantly and sat down beside him with a brief greeting in Manuel's direction, his attention still focused on the other boy as he glanced at Bernd from the side. “Good morning, Manuel,” Bernd murmured, reaching out for the bowl with the porridge. He had hardly eaten anything over the last two days, and he filled his plate with a generous portion of the warm mush without pulling a face this time.

Marc watched him silently after exchanging a quick glance with Manuel, and Bernd bit down on his lip and turned his head to look at him. “Can I have your bowl please, Marc-André?” he asked, and Marc nodded and quietly pushed his bowl in Bernd's direction, clearly surprised that his rival offered to serve him.

Manuel hid a contented smile and poured coffee into the three mugs sitting on the table. “Bernd and I will be away for a couple of hours, Marc,” he informed his young employee, and Marc nodded again. “Of course, Mr. Neuer,” he said, waiting for further instructions.

“We'll drive to Bad Bergzabern, Bernd will need some proper boots and clothes for the next months, and I can see to getting the things I couldn't buy on the market yesterday. We'll have to keep the Cramerhouse closed for today, I fear, I don't think that we'll be back before sunset.”

Marc-André looked worried, and he stiffened when Bernd raised his head from his bowl to look back and forth between his cousin and his roommate. It was apparent that he had a bad conscience that the Cramerhouse would be closed for customers because of him, but he was too shy to ask why Manuel didn't want Marc to serve their customers alone, and he finally looked down at his breakfast again after a moment or two without saying anything.

“Lisbeth will come over later, maybe the two of you can prepare everything for tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.” Marc looked unhappy, but he didn't protest. “I will wash the dishes and see to the leftovers,” was all he said, and Manuel smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you, Marc. We shall hurry, but I don't want to strain Northstar too much. He's not the youngest one anymore, and we'll need some time to reach the city.”

“We'll be fine, Mr. Neuer,” Marc-André promised, and Manuel knew that he could count on him as always. Marc was the best thing that had happened to him in a long time, and he cared about him like he would have cared about a younger brother.

“I know, Marc. I can always count on you,” he said, and the smile he got in return was the best reward Manuel could imagine and made the because of the early hour still rather grayish day a whole lot brighter.

 

***

 

Half an hour later Bernd was sitting on the coach box of the wain beside him, still pale around his nose, but looking marginally better than he'd looked when he had entered the kitchen. Marc was standing by the gate and waving at them until they were out of sight, and Bernd turned his head around to look back at him several times. Manuel focused on the stony path in front of them, trusting Bernd to start their very much needed talk on his own when the silence between them would finally become too much for him to bear.

It took his cousin longer to work up the courage and start talking than he'd anticipated it, but Bernd's first sentence didn't really surprise him.

“Marc... Marc-André... has offered me to use his bed yesterday.”

Manuel suppressed a knowing smile and only darted him a brief glance, raising one of his eyebrows questioningly. “He did?”

“Y...y-yes. I didn't ask him, really not. He... he said that I would need it more than he does.” Bernd's bad conscience was clear to detect in his voice.

Manuel gently pulled at the reins when Northstar decided that he wanted to trot a little bit faster than it was wise on the small and bumpy path. “Yes, that sounds very much like what Marc would do. He can't stand seeing other living beings suffer, no matter whether they are humans or animals. He took care of your feet too, didn't he?”

“Hmm, yes, he did.” Bernd stared down at his clogs.

“I thought so.” Manuel turned his head to regard his cousin for a moment. “I must admit that I am a little bit angry and disappointed, Bernd,” he said, and Bernd flinched, but he looked back at him with a frown.

“Why that? I did everything you told me to do. I didn't complain or whine, and you didn't tell me that my work wasn't good enough either!” he defended himself, and Manuel sighed. “Your work was fine, and that's not the reason why I'm disappointed. But I am angry that you didn't come to me when you were in so much pain yesterday, Bernd. Why didn't you say anything? We would surely have found a solution before your feet would have become as damaged as they actually are now.”

Bernd blushed and averted his gaze, staring unseeing at the green trees lining the dusty street their wain was jolting upon now. “I'm sorry that you have to keep the Cramerhouse closed today because of me,” he mumbled, and Manuel could hear the suppressed tears in his strangled voice.

He wrapped his arm around the younger one's shoulder to squeeze it gently. “That's not what I'm angry about, Bernd. I would have driven with you to Bad Bergzabern to get you proper shoes and working clothes anyway. But I am disappointed that you didn't trust me enough to tell me that you're in pain. You're my cousin, and you're also my employee for the summer now, and that's not how I treat my family and my employees. You consider yourself mature, but it takes more for that than smoking cigars and sitting in a club. Knowing when you've reached your limits and standing up for yourself and others for example. If there is something you can't do, then I expect you to tell me that openly in the future. I really don't want to ever see you in pain like that.”

Bernd leaned against his side with a strangled sob. “I thought that you would laugh at me and be angry if I did that,” he whispered, and Manuel pulled a tissue out of his pocket to hand it to him. “I would never laugh at you, Bernd. You're like a younger brother to me, and I care deeply about you. Of course I knew that the first days wouldn't be easy for you, and that your back and feet would hurt because of the unknown work, but I didn't think that you would be too stubborn and proud to tell me that your feet were bleeding.” He glanced at Bernd again before focusing on his ask of bringing them safely to Bad Bergzabern once more.

“They were bleeding, weren't they?”

Bernd blew his nose and nodded. “Yes. They were. But Marc treated them with this ointment, and they're not bleeding anymore. But I couldn't put on my shoes this morning when I woke up, and Marc... hmm, he was so nice and... hmm – he offered me his clogs.”

“And let you sleep in his bed. He's not like you thought him to be, right?”

Bernd played with the tissue in his hands. “No. But I don't think that he likes me.”

“That might perhaps come from your way of treating him at the beginning, don't you think so? Ordering him to call you 'sir' and all of that?” Manuel squeezed Bernd's shoulder one last time before pulling his arm away to show him that he wasn't angry with him.

“Do you think that he will forgive me if I apologize to him?” Bernd asked after a while, voice small, and this time Manuel didn't hide his pleased smile. “I don't know, but it's worth a try, isn't it?”

“Hmm, yes. He's had a hard life, I guess.” Manuel could feel Bernd's eyes upon his face, but he shook his head. “It's his story, and I won't be the one telling it to you, Bernd. If you're patient and really trying to be his friend, then he will open up to you and tell you his story himself. There is only one thing I will tell you because you will find out about that sooner rather than later anyway. Marc can't read or write, and if I'll ever catch you making some stupid remarks or jokes about that, then you will have to face my wrath, Bernd!” Manuel's voice was deadly serious, but his cousin surprised him once more when he shook his head with grim determination.

“I won't do that, I promise you. Sadly enough I don't know how to teach someone these things, but I won't make jokes about it or even mention it, cousin. I... I will do my best and not pout any longer, I promise you.” he said, his voice honest and sincere now, and Manuel felt as if a huge weight had just been lifted from his shoulders.

“That's a good start, I think. Now we only have to see to you getting proper clothes and shoes, and then your summer in the Cramerhouse can actually begin!” he gave back, and Bernd nodded and tried a cautious but genuine smile himself.

“No more fancy shoes!” he groaned, and their laughter was still hanging in the air when the wain was already around the next corner, the cheerful sound competing with the serenades of the birds sitting in the green canopies of the trees.

 

***

 

Thomas and Oscar had spent their first day without Robert and Marco mostly with exploring the castle together and playing with Oscar's tin soldiers. They had taken two long walks and used the time they had spent together to talk and get to know each other better. Oscar was a wonderful boy, intelligent and warmhearted, sensitive and interested in his surroundings and everything Thomas told him.

Thomas put him to bed and spent two hours with sitting by his side, reading to him, and he felt close to tears when Oscar wrapped his arms around him and told him how happy he was that Thomas was here to spend the summer with him. He sat beside his bed for a long time when Oscar had fallen asleep, watching him with a tender smile, finally allowing himself to remember how he had played together with Robert and Anna when they had been children.

He had slept peacefully when he had gone to bed, and he woke up refreshed and ready to face the new day and make the best out of it.

Mathilda's breakfast left nothing to be desired, and Thomas served himself with toast, eggs and bacon three times. Oscar snickered, munching away on his own eggs and porridge.

“Mathilda's porridge is the best, but Manuel's is almost just as good as hers,” he said, and Thomas felt warmth rushing through him at the mentioning of the handsome innkeeper he simply couldn't stop thinking of. “Mr. Neuer does the cooking for his inn himself?” he asked, hoping that Mathilda didn't notice the slight hoarseness of his voice. He shot her a quick glance, but the small cook looked all innocent and busied herself with her pots and pans.

“Partly,” Oscar said. “Lisbeth comes over from Darstein to help him cook for his customers, but he's actually almost as good when it comes to cooking as Mathilda is.” The boy paused, looking up at Thomas from under his thick lashes. “I would love to visit Manuel and Marc today, Uncle Thomas. Marc is Marc-André, Manuel's young employee. I truly like him!”

Thomas smiled. “I have met Marc-André when Sven stopped by the Cramerhouse to get the wine for your father. Hmm, don't you think that they will be too busied for visitors?” It wasn't that he didn't want to see Mr. Neuer again, he just didn't want to intrude.

“Manuel is always happy when I visit him, and maybe I can pluck more cherries and strawberries for him!” Oscar said hopefully, looking at his uncle with big pleading eyes. Mathilda's soft snicker from the other side of the kitchen made Thomas turn his head to her.

“Don't even try to be reasonable, my dear, our sweet Lord Oscar is always getting what he wants. The walk to the Cramerhouse doesn't take that long, and you could actually bring Lisbeth the recipes I promised her. And two pots with the jam I've made, it's too much for us anyway.”

 

***

 

No sooner said than done, Thomas found himself walking downwards to the Cramerhouse beside Oscar only half an hour later, carrying two large pots with Mathilda's delicious strawberry jam and a notebook where she had written down the recipes for Lisbeth. The sun was shining brightly through the canopies of the trees, the birds were singing, and Oscar was bouncing and shouting with excitement, running back and forth on the path like only eleven-year-old boys could do.

Thomas' heart was beating faster in his chest at the thought of seeing the handsome innkeeper again, and he couldn't stop smiling and humming a cheerful melody. Oscar soon joined him, and they sang for the rest of their walk, not even stopping when they saw a large group of young men coming in their direction, which were obviously some students on an excursion with their professor.

“Professor Wagner, will we have lunch in the Cramerhouse later?” one of the students asked eagerly just when the group was within earshot, a young men with rosy cheeks who looked as if he appreciated food a little bit too much. The professor turned around to smile at him, and Thomas almost felt disappointed when he said: “”Of course, Eberhard, the Pfälzer Dish Mr. Neuer offers is the best in the entire region. At least I was told that it is, I haven't visited the Cramerhouse so far.”

Thomas was of course happy for Mr. Neuer having enough customers, but the group was really big, and the handsome innkeeper with the blue eyes wouldn't have any time for some unexpected visitors if there were so many customers he had to serve. Therefore his good mood faded a little bit, but he suppressed his disappointment for Oscar's sake.

They walked past the group of students with a smile and a friendly greeting, and it didn't take long until they reached the base of the mountain and the large inn. Oscar was already running towards the entrance, but it was the young employee stepping through the door of the inn and not Mr. Neuer himself.

“Marc, Marc! I wish you a wonderful morning!” Oscar shouted and beamed, wrapping his arms around the astonished boy to greet him. Thomas walked closer, frowning when he saw the expression on the boy's face. “Good morning, Marc-André,” he said with a smile, and the young servant swallowed and looked at him.

“Good morning, Lord Oscar, good morning, sir. Mr. Neuer is on his way to Bad Bergzabern. He won't be back before tonight, I fear,” he murmured, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Oh, that's a pity,” Oscar pouted, clearly disappointed that his plans had been thwarted. “Why that? And it's Oscar for you, Marc, not Lord Oscar. You're family.” He turned around to look pleadingly at Thomas. “Manuel and Marc are family, aren't they, Uncle Thomas?” he asked, and Marc flinched again when he heard Oscar addressing Thomas this way, a violent flinch of what almost looked like mortal fear to Thomas. The young man stumbled back and stared at Thomas as if he were a ghost for a moment, slowly relaxing again when he saw the friendly expression on Thomas' face. Thomas ruffled Oscar's hair, wondering what he'd done to deserve such a scared reaction.

“If you say that they're family, then I guess that they are, sweetheart,” he said, and Oscar beamed at him and embraced him before looking at Marc again. “Why did Manuel go to Bad Bergzabern, Marc? He's normally doing that on Mondays only when the inn is closed for customers anyway.”

“The Cramerhouse is closed for customers today as well,” Marc mumbled, careful to keep a few meters of distance between himself and Thomas. “Mr. Neuer's cousin has arrived three days ago. He's supposed to work for Mr. Neuer over the summer months, and he... hmm... needs other shoes and clothes for that...”

Thomas was quicker on the uptake than Oscar was. “Uh, his own ones are fancy but pretty uncomfortable for such a task, right?” he chuckled, and Marc shot him a suspicious glance. “Yes, sir.”

“I see. Oh, that's bad. There is a group of students and their teacher who want to have lunch here in a couple of hours,” Thomas then said, and Marc bit down on his lip, looking miserably. “Lisbeth, Mr. Neuer's cook, is here, but I can't serve the customers alone...” It was clear to see that he regretted that Mr. Neuer wouldn't get the money they could make with serving such a large number of customers, and Oscar pulled at Thomas' jacket. “Can we help Marc, please?” he asked, “I know that I can't serve customers, it would put my father to shame. But I can help Lisbeth in the kitchen. No one would know or see me this way, and Mathilda has taught me some things, I'm sure that I can do that.”

Thomas chewed on his lip, but when he saw Marc's hopeful expression, he nodded his head. “Why not? I've worked in a tavern in America, working in the Cramerhouse can't be so different from that.”

Marc-André swallowed, and his face turned red when he looked down at his shoes. “Your offer is generous, but I can't read or write... I can't write the bills for those customers who want one, and I can't write down their orders...”

Thomas' heart ached for the boy when he saw his shame. He resisted the urge to touch Marc as he sensed that he wasn't ready for body contact, and so he only smiled at him. “That's no problem at all, Marc. I can serve the customers and write down their orders and the bills. It would be better if you stayed behind the counter for the drinks anyway. Can you keep three or four orders in mind?” Marc nodded. “I have a good memory, I can remember five or six orders at least,” he said, and Thomas made a contented noise. “That's more than enough, then. The rest will come when we're working. What do you think, shall we give it a try? It would be a shame to send so many hungry young men away, and it wouldn't be a good recommendation for the Cramerhouse either.”

Marc slowly raised his head, and his shy smile made Thomas' throat clench with sympathy. “You would really do that for Mr. Neuer, sir?”

“For both of you, actually,” Thomas gave back, gesturing to the entrance. “Come on, we should get ready then. I have the suspicion that the students will arrive here much earlier than we expect them to do, and they will definitely be hungry.”

He ushered his nephew and the young servant into the house, thinking that working in the Cramerhouse would be both fun and a good workout for his arms and his legs at the same time. Mr. Neuer would get the money he could surely use well, and maybe Thomas could also talk to him and offer him to teach Marc reading and writing. This way he would have a reason to visit the Cramerhouse together with Oscar on a regular basis, and maybe, just maybe helping Marc would help him get to know Mr. Neuer better.

Hope was the last thing to die after all, and Thomas had never been the one giving up hope easily anyway.


	7. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manuel and Bernd have been in Bad Bergzabern the whole day, and Manuel is not prepared for the big surprise awaiing him when he comes back to the Cramerhouse in the afternoon, still thinking that he'll be missing a day with customers that would normally bring him some money...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear friends,  
> I will answer to your lovely comments on the last chapter asap, but I had this chapter so clear in my mind, and I wanted to write it down for you right away. I'll try to hurry with the next one as well, but after chapter 8 there will be a break because I want to see to some of my other stories at first. I hope you will enjoy this one, I had fun writing it for you! :-)

Manuel's impromptu visit to Bad Bergzabern had paid off in every way he'd hoped that it would do.

He had gotten the supplies he had wanted to buy, and they had also found the perfect boots and a second pair of shoes for Bernd, together with some clothes he could work in much better than in his own former fancy but now ruined suit.

The boots reached up to Bernd's calves and would protect his new pants from getting dirty when he swept the floor or cleared away the horse dung, and they were made of soft leather that stretched when his feet would be bigger than usually in the evening, swollen and hot after a long working day. The shoes were not as fancy or expensive as Bernd's shiny black torture equipment had been, but they were perfect for attending the Sunday Mass in Darstein and the summer ball in the Cramerhouse, and that was all Bernd would need them for within the next weeks.

Manuel knew the shoemaker personally for a long time, and Matthias had sold him the boots and the shoes for a very fair price. The same went for the tailor Stephan, and Bernd wore his new clothes with more pride and gratitude than Manuel had thought to be likely at first.

It was still rather early when the Cramerhouse came into sight after their long and tiring drive back home, somewhere later in the afternoon, and Manuel thought that they could perhaps still serve some of his patronage for two or three hours if they were lucky. It wouldn't earn him much money, but it would be better than nothing, and Manuel liked having his friends around. Bernd had been quiet and thoughtful during the whole way, even taking a nap leaned against his shoulder, but Manuel hadn't been in the mood to talk much either, happy that he could let his thoughts wander around rather undisturbed for a while.

They had taken the expected turn of course and started to circle around Lord Robert's handsome brother-in-law the second he had let them run wild; and Manuel had given up his fruitless attempts to distract himself after a few minutes, musing about Oscar's young uncle and asking himself if and when he would see him again. Oscar liked to visit the Cramerhouse on a regular basis, but Manuel didn't think that Mr. Müller would share the boy's passion for spending his days in a rural inn and listening to its equally rustic innkeeper's rambling.

The loud noises and laughter coming from inside the Cramerhouse and wafting across the courtyard towards them rose Bernd from his slumber and made Manuel pull harshly at the reins. Northstar came to an abrupt halt with a reproachful neigh, and Manuel stared at the two wains before the fence he hadn't noticed before because he'd been too lost in foolish dreams about a handsome gentleman who was far out of his reach anyway. They belonged to his regular customers Sven and Leon, but two men alone couldn't make so much noise, so there must be at least some other customers sitting in the taproom as well.

“What's wrong?” Bernd mumbled, rubbing his eyes, and Manuel pushed the reins into his hands with a deep frown. “I don't know, but I'll find out soon, I guess. Please wait here for a moment, Bernd, I need to check what's going on. I'd really thought that my orders had been clear. Stupid boy, he can't do that alone!” he sighed, jumping down from the coach box to head towards the entrance, feeling Bernd's confused and curious glance on his back.

The scenery that unfolded itself before his eyes when he pulled at the door handle made him stop dead on the threshold and gape around in stunned disbelief.

The large taproom was crowded to say the least, each available seat at the tables occupied by a customer. Manuel could see some of his patronage sitting at their usual table in the niche next to the counter, Sven, Jonas, Patrick and Leon, but he didn't know any of the other customers. They seemed to belong to the same group though, probably students with their teacher. They were obviously enjoying themselves pretty much – if the way they laughed and lifted their glasses in the air for another toast again and again was anything to go by with, that was.

Marc was standing behind the counter, too busied to notice Manuel as he filled more glasses with wine, beer and lemonade, but this was not what literally shocked Manuel into a frozen marble statue that filled the doorway almost completely because of his size and broad built.

It was the man emerging from the kitchen, balancing four large and overloaded plates on his arms.

The man who Manuel's thoughts went back to whenever he had a few minutes to himself.

Mr. Müller rushed over to one of the tables with an elegance Manuel wouldn't have given him credit for. He himself at least was for sure not such an elegant sight when he was carrying four heavy plates and had to meander his way through the small places left between the tables; and Manuel watched the other man putting the plates down onto the table with fluent and practiced motions with breathless admiration.

“Voilà, messieurs, the ordered Pfälzer Dishes. They are true masterpieces of art, aren't they? Just look at them. Mr. Neuer's Pfälzer Dishes are the most famous in the entire Pfälzer Forest, I can assure you that much. They are so delicious that you'll think that you must truly be in heaven when you taste them!” Lord Robert's brother-in-law declared with a dramatic bow, drawing an excited snicker from the four young men he'd just promised heaven on Earth. “Enjoy your meals, gentlemen, I'm sure that you won't be disappointed!”

“We're certain that we won't be disappointed as well, Mr. Müller. Hmm, you were right, this is delicious indeed!” One of the young men said, and Mr. Müller beamed at him with another bow and turned around on his heels to approach another table with a cheerful smile plastered all over his face. “You ran out of wine? My fault, please accept my sincerest apologies, dear sirs! I shall make up for your lack of wine instantly!” he fluted, bowing again, and the three students he had addressed chuckled and made a calming gesture. “Everything's fine, Mr. Müller. We can see that you're trying to serve all of us at the same time. But please tell Mr. Neuer that his wine is the best we've drunk in a very long time the next time you'll see him.”

“Will do that, messieurs, will do. You're too kind, thank you so much for your patience. Three more glasses of wine, I shall bring them to you at once.” Mr. Müller turned around to head back to the counter, saying something to Marc-André Manuel couldn't understand. The boy looked up and smiled at Oscar's uncle, nodding his head and taking the pencil to make three more marks on the notebook Manuel used for the orders when he was serving his customers. He went back to his task and filled three glasses with the desired beverage, putting them onto a platter for Oscar's young uncle to carry.

Mr. Müller nodded contentedly and disappeared behind the kitchen door just to come back within the next second, carrying more plates on his arms and rushing over to another table to repeat his performance from the first one and charm the hungry visitors with more exalted words. He was rewarded with laughter and praise again, and Manuel wanted to rub his eyes because he must be dreaming. This couldn't be real, it couldn't be that a man he barely knew – the relative of an earl even – was serving his customers as if he'd never done anything else in his whole life.

Manuel realized that he was watching Mr. Müller with his mouth hanging open, and he snapped it shut just when the handsome gentleman finally noticed him. “Ah, Mr. Neuer, welcome back! I hope you had a pleasant journey! My dear sirs – this is Mr. Neuer, the creator of the famous Pfälzer Dishes! He has just returned from an important business trip to spoil you with his cooking skills, please welcome him back!”

Manuel's jaw dropped open again when the crowd began to cheer, shout and clap their hands, forgetting the 'heavenly delicious' dishes waiting to be eaten right before their noses for a moment. Manuel felt heat coloring his cheeks until they almost burnt, and he didn't know whether he should laugh or better shut the door behind himself and run away.

“Uhm, thank you, gentlemen, you're too kind. I have to thank Mr. Müller for his willingness to help me out while I was away. I need to see to my wain, but I'll be back right away again. Thank you,” he stammered deeply embarrassed, wishing for a hole in the ground to open up and swallow him. More clapping and shouts followed him when he fled out of the taproom to lean heavily against Northstar's strong back and rub his eyes.

Bernd was still sitting on the coach box, staring down at him with big eyes. “What happened, cousin?” he asked, and Manuel blinked and patted Northstar's neck as he tried to calm his hammering heart and his breathing down again, gazing up at the younger one with a disbelieving shake of his head. “I don't know, Bernd, I really don't have any bloody clue. But I think that Mr. Müller has just earned me the salary of two months.”

 

***

 

Manuel heaved a relieved sigh when the door closed behind the last one of his patronage.

The group of students had left the Cramerhouse an hour earlier, promising to come back the next time their excursion would lead them to his inn. Their tutor Professor Wagner had given him a more than generous tip for Marc-André and his 'new waiter' Mr. Müller, and he had assured Manuel that he'd never eaten anything more delicious in any other restaurant, and that the service of the Cramerhouse was the best he'd ever enjoyed. He would recommend Manuel's inn to his colleagues and his friends, and he would be pleased if he could rent a room in the Cramerhouse now and then when he was visiting the region because of his own studies.

Manuel's head was still spinning, and he couldn't believe all of this. After returning to Bernd, he'd hurried to unload the wain and see to the supplies he'd bought and stuff them away in the pantry and the cellar. Bernd couldn't do much because of his damaged feet, but he had promised Manuel to take good care of Northstar and see to him, and he'd looked serious and really eager to be of help.

His cousin had come into the kitchen after seeing to the cart horse and helped Lisbeth and Oscar with cutting bread, chopping vegetables and washing the pots and the dishes afterwards without any complaint; while Manuel had rushed back and forth between the kitchen and the taproom together with Mr. Müller to feed the hungry crowd sitting in his inn and singing cheerful and sometimes pretty salacious songs for some more hours.

Marc had stood his ground behind the counter, only leaving his place when he had to go to the cellar to get more wine and beer, and Manuel had made more money on this sunny Thursday than he'd made within the last three months together. The students hadn't even blinked when he'd presented the bills to them later, and none of them had argued or whined that they didn't have enough money to pay the tab - some of them had even left a rather big tip like Professor Wagner had done.

Jonas, Sven, Patrick and Leon had taken pity on him and left the Cramerhouse earlier than usual, patting his shoulder and congratulating him to his new 'waiter' with a wink and a chuckle. “The earl and his son really consider you family if they're willing to help you out like that, don't they? Mr. Müller informed us that you had to make an impromptu visit to the city, and I saw Oscar helping Lizzy in the kitchen when I went to the restroom,” Sven had said, and Manuel had pulled a face. “You won't tell anybody about Oscar, will you, Sven? He stayed in the kitchen because he didn't want his father to get into trouble. If I'd known that he wanted to come here today, then I'd never have left.”

“Of course not, Manu. None of us want Lord Robert and Mr. Reus to get into trouble. Oscar's secret is safe with me, don't worry. He and Mr. Müller met the group on their way here, and Mr. Müller was right to help you, you can't risk losing customers because the Cramerhouse is closed without any announcement beforehand. You really need the money.”

“Thank you, Sven.” Manuel had watched the three of them leave until they were out of sight and had then locked the door to join the others in the kitchen and sit down for the first time within four hours. He had sat on the coach box almost the entire day and therefore welcomed the change at first, but he felt tired and his foot was hurting again, a clear reminder that he had to be careful and shouldn't overdo it.

Mr. Müller, Marc-André and Bernd were seated around the table to have dinner from the leftovers, and Manuel smiled when he saw Oscar dozing in his uncle's lap. It had been a long day for all of them, but Oscar was just a boy, and Manuel felt bad that his small friend had worked so hard just to help him. It reminded him too much of what Marc had had to endure to feel comfortable with Oscar's willingness to help him.

Lisbeth was getting ready because her husband would pick her up soon, and he accompanied her to the door and squeezed her hands. “Thank you so much, Lizzy. I don't know how you did that. You'll get a proper bonus with your next salary.”

Lisbeth smiled at him with the fondness that came with the years of knowing each other and being friends. They had grown up together, being neighbor kids, and Manuel was grateful that she worked for him instead of searching for a job in one of the noble restaurants in Bad Bergzabern. “You don't have to do that, Manu. You're already paying me more than others would do. You'll need the money if you really want to turn the Cramerhouse into a hotel,” she said, kissing him on his cheek before opening the back door. “I'll see you tomorrow, my dear.”

Manuel waited on the threshold until he saw her husband's small carriage stopping in the courtyard and Lisbeth climbing onto the coach box next to him. Then he closed the back door and locked it as well, finally sitting down at the kitchen table and taking the plate filled with bread, meat and vegetables Marc handed over to him. “Thank you, Marc.” He took a deep breath and finally looked at Mr. Müller, hoping that his cheeks didn't glow pink too much.

“And thank you, Mr. Müller. I really don't know what to say to what you did to help me. I'm forever indebted to you that you spent your precious time with serving my customers,” he murmured, and his heart made a flip when Mr. Müller smiled at him, his astonishing bi-colored eyes crinkling as he did. “It was my greatest pleasure, Mr. Neuer. I was glad to be of help, and it was fun to work as a waiter again as I must say. I'm glad that I didn't forget how to serve hungry customers with huge bears growling in their stomachs and without them getting impatient and angry because of the long wait.”

“You've worked in a tavern before, sir?” Manuel asked, curious to learn more about Lord Robert's fascinating relative. “I'm sorry if I'm intruding on your privacy, sir, but I know that your family belong to the oldest and wealthiest families of Bad Bergzabern, so I'm a little bit surprised now.” Bernd lifted his head up from his plate, apparently surprised as well that someone having a lot of money had worked in a tavern.

Mr. Müller shrugged his shoulder with a mischievous grin that made Manuel's heart beat faster. “You're right, my family belong to the oldest ones of Bad Bergzabern. But I didn't have access to my inheritance until my twenty-fifth birthday, and what can I say? I was adventurous and wanted to see more of the world, so I decided to visit America and continue my studies there.” he paused, and Manuel got the impression that there was more about his wish to visit another country so far away from his home than just his adventurous nature. But Manuel wouldn't ask him about that here with Marc and Bernd within earshot and right on their second meeting – no after Mr. Müller having been so kind to volunteer as his waiter for one day.

“My father wasn't pleased about my decision, and he refused to give me more money than I needed for the passage itself and the first couple of days in America. It was either going back home or working for my living, and I chose the latter. I worked in a tavern in New York and in a factory, and when I'd earned enough money, I went to Boston to finish my studies and work as a teacher on a college.”

It was Marc-André raising his head from his dinner at the word teacher this time, and Manuel felt a lump in his throat when he saw the wistful look on the face of his young employee. “So you have been a teacher before you came back,” Manuel said, and Mr. Müller nodded. “Teaching students is more for me than just a job. I've never been interested in becoming a merchant, and I know my father's business in the best hands possible with Robert. What brings me to the tip Professor Wagner has left for me. I want you to use it for the Cramerhouse, Mr. Neuer. I was told that you're thinking about turning it into a hotel, and you'll need money for that. No need to use your savings for that if you can avoid that.”

“Uhm, thank you, Mr. Müller, but I can't accept your offer, you've really earned it!” Manuel mumbled, acutely aware of Bernd and Marc watching him. Mr. Müller frowned. “I didn't help you to earn money with that, but because Oscar says that you're family. Family help each other. And please call me Thomas and not 'sir', family don't call each other 'sir' or 'mister' either. I hope that you won't mind me calling you Manuel like Oscar is doing, will you?”

Manuel's cheeks heated up again, but he couldn't hide his stupid grin. “I'd be delighted, Thomas. Oscar is indeed family, and so are his father, Marco and the other residents of Castle Lindelborn. Are you sure that you don't want the money?”

Thomas nodded his head with a smile, gently stroking over Oscar's ruffled hair. His nephew had curled himself up in his arms with uttermost trust, and Marc looked at the young teacher with adoring eyes. It was clear to see that Thomas had won a new admirer and devoted friend in Marc, and Thomas now turned his head to smile at the boy. “I really don't need the money. If you don't want it, Manuel, then I will give it to Marc, he really earned it.” He sipped from his lemonade and cleared his throat. “Which brings me to something else, Manuel. I want to ask you if you'd be fine with me teaching Marc reading and writing. He told me that he'd never had the chance to learn these important skills, and I would love to give it a try.”

Manuel looked at Marc, who was staring down at his plate, pushing his food from one side to the other, his back stiff and tense with the fear that his employer would refuse Mr. Müller's offer.

“I've tried to help him with that, but I fear that I'm not really good when I comes to teaching,” he murmured hoarsely, and he held his breath when Thomas reached out to touch his hand for a split second. “You're for sure a wonderful employer and mentor, Manuel. You've taught Marc things I'd never be able to do, but you don't have the time to sit down and teach Marc during the day at all, and after work, you're both far too tired for that. I would come here every day for two hours, and if you'll let me teach him, then I will help you with your customers to make up for the loss you'll have because Marc can't work for you during these two hours. Oscar had already asked me if I can help him, he can do his own studies during this time, and it would mean a lot to both of us.”

He turned to briefly touch Marc's trembling fingers as well. “You're a wonderful and very clever young man, Marc. I really want to help you, and I'm sure that I can do that. Some people have troubles with recognizing the letters, but I've worked with students having issues with that beforehand, and I think I know a way to make it easier for you.”

Marc swallowed, tears shimmering in his eyes when he looked up at Thomas. “Thank you, Mr. Müller. I would really like to give it a try.” He peered at Manuel from under his lashes. “I will work harder in the remaining hours, Mr. Neuer, I promise you!”

“You're already working harder than anybody else, Marc. I'll be fine, don't worry. I'd be indebted to you again if you did that, Thomas. It would mean a lot to me if Marc would get the chance to learn reading and writing.”

Manuel had almost forgotten Bernd when his cousin suddenly cleared his throat. “You don't need to make up for the two hours, Mr. Müller. I'm here to help my cousin. I know that he needs to be careful with his foot,” he colored deep red when he said that, obviously being reminded of his own poor feet, but he held his head up high. “I will work for Marc and me together during that time.”

Marc's head snapped up, and he stared at Bernd as if he didn't dare to believe his ears, and a cautious smile spread out on his features when he realized that Bernd had been serious about that. “Uhm, thank you, Mr. Leno,” he said, and Bernd lowered his head down in shame and embarrassment. “Bernd, please,” he mumbled shyly, fiddling with a thread hanging down from his sleeve.

“Thank you, Bernd,” Marc murmured after a moment, and Manuel exchanged a quick amused glance with Thomas.

“I really cannot thank you enough, Thomas, for today and for everything you're willing to do for Marc. He really deserve this chance.”

“You don't have to thank me, Manuel. I'm happy when I can be helpful. I have to thank my brother-in-law and my sweet nephew that they invited me to spend the summer with them.” Thomas looked down at the sleeping boy in his arms. “We should go now. Nuri came down here a couple of hours ago to look what was taking us so long, and he promised to come back when the sun is setting to pick us up. Oscar is too tired to walk back to the castle.”

“I could give you a ride,” Manuel offered, not willing to part from the other man, even though he was really tired himself. Thomas smiled at him, blushing a little bit as well now. “That's kind of you, but Nuri must already be on his way, and you look as if you could do with some rest, Manuel. I noticed your limping earlier, and you have to bring your inn back in order for tomorrow. Oscar and I will come back after lunch tomorrow in the afternoon,” he promised, rising to his feet with Oscar in his arms. The boy murmured something in his sleep, but he didn't wake up, and Manuel helped his uncle carrying him over to the door when he'd said goodnight to Bernd and Marc.

Nuri was just appearing on the steep path with the small carriage Lord Robert possessed next to the bigger one when they stepped outside, and Manuel waved at them until the carriage was out of sight with a smile on his face and butterflies clapping their wings in his stomach.

Tomorrow he would see Thomas again, and Manuel really hoped that they would friends one day, because this was all Thomas would surely ever feel for him – friendship, nothing more, no matter how much Manuel wished that things were different.


	8. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marc and Bernd are trying to get some rest after a long day, and Thomas has a bad conscience that he let Oscar work so hard together with Lisbeth...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear friends,  
> this chapter turned out to be different from what I'd planned again, but I hope that you'll still like it. I did some research about the sanitation of that time period, and I decided that the Cramerhouse was pretty modern for this time and had restrooms instead of an outhouse... ;-)

Marc was feeling happy and melancholic at the same time when he went upstairs after cleaning the taproom and the kitchen together with Mr. Neuer and Mr. Leno. He still had to get used to calling the other boy Bernd he thought when he entered the room he shared with the younger cousin of his employer. He wasn't really sure if Bernd's change of mind would last for longer than it would take his feet to heal, and he was still cautious and a little bit mistrustful when it came to him and his intentions, even though he had to admit that Mr. Neuer's cousin had truly worked hard and without complaining today.

Bernd had excused himself and gone upstairs a few minutes before Marc, and he had already changed into his nightshirt and was trying to wrap a fresh bandage around his left foot when Marc pushed the door open. Marc watched him for a moment standing in the doorway, shaking his head and kneeling down before him when he noticed his useless attempts to take care of his foot properly. “Let me do that, you'll only get more blisters with all these folds.” Marc took Bernd's foot to smooth out the creases and wrap the bandage around his toes in a way that they wouldn't be pressed against each other too much and hinder the blood circulation with that, and the strange tingling in his stomach he felt when he touched the other boy confused him and made him draw in a shaky breath.

He could feel Bernd's eyes on the back of his head, but he focused on his task and didn't look up because he really didn't want the other boy to notice his confusion and inappropriate feelings.

“Thank you, Marc. I'm not really good when it comes to such things, I fear. It was always my mom bandaging me when I had damaged my knees or cut my fingers.”

“Yes, you're not, that's really hard to miss. But there's still hope left that you'll learn it one day – just like washing dishes and sweeping the floor properly,” Marc muttered in return, and he could feel Bernd's flinch at his rather harsh words. He hadn't meant to sound so rude and unfriendly, and he paused and closed his eyes for a moment, still holding Bernd's now properly bandaged foot in his hands. “'m sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I'm just tired,” he apologized to Bernd's toes under the white linen, and he felt another soft tingle in his abdomen when Bernd bent down to briefly touch his shoulder and said:

“You're not the one who has to be sorry. I was the one treating you badly, and I want to apologize for my arrogant behavior. I'm really sorry, Marc-André, and I hope that you'll give me the chance to prove to you that I learned from my mistakes and that I can do better.”

Marc put Bernd's foot down to take the other one and pull at the bandage. “It's alright, I guess. You're coming from a rich family, you never had to work for your living. It must have been hard for you to adjust,” he mumbled, gritting his teeth to keep his emotions at bay. “I need to use the restroom,” he said, almost jumping to his feet to flee out of the room before he would lose his self-control and start to cry like a little baby. He heard Bernd calling after him, but he didn't stop or turn around, just slammed the door to the small restroom shut behind himself to lock it and crouch down on the floor with his fists pressed against his eyes to keep his hot tears from falling. Marc didn't even know why he felt like crying all of a sudden, but it had been a long and exhausting day, and he felt worn out and dizzy and confused in a way he hadn't felt in a long time.

Maybe it was because Oscar's uncle was so completely different from his own one.

Mr. Müller was kind and warmhearted, gentle and caring where his own uncle had been cruel and cold and violent, and Marc had been truly scared at first, not daring to deny Mr. Müller's wish to open the Cramerhouse for the students. He'd feared that Oscar's uncle would show his real face then and beat him, or - even worse – beat Oscar if Marc didn't do as he'd been told.

But Mr. Müller had smiled at him and talked to him as if he considered Marc equal to himself, always using the words please and thank you when he'd wanted Marc or Lisbeth to do something for him or the customers. He'd even explained everything to him with uttermost patience, not getting angry when Marc had been too nervous at first to follow his instructions and understand what he should do right away. Marc couldn't read and write, but he recognized numbers, and Mr. Müller's suggestion to draw the different kind of glasses for beer, wine and lemonade under the numbers for the tables where Marc could just leave marks behind the drawings to keep track on the numbers of the ordered beverages had made it easy for him not to miss any of the many orders. Mr. Müller had seen to the orders of the dishes himself, scribbling them onto his own notebook with so much ease that Marc had felt a huge lump in his throat, wishing that he could do that too so much that his heart had been aching in his chest so badly.

Marc had realized right after the first half an hour that Oscar truly loved and adored his uncle, and Mr. Müller had treated Lisbeth like a lady and not like a simple maidservant or cook like so many other young gentlemen did when they came here to enjoy her cooking skills. Marc had eventually dared to relax slowly inch by inch, and he had started to admire Oscar's uncle when he'd kept his calm even in the biggest chaos right after the arrival of the hungry students, who'd shouted impatiently for the menu and some drinks to smear their dry throats at the beginning.

Marc had really thought that they would get angry and start to rampage if their orders wouldn't be carried out instantly, but Mr. Müller had charmed them with his crooked smile and his unique way of serving them before things had turned out to become really bad. After half an hour or so, Mr. Müller had had everything under his control, and Marc had started to believe that this was not just a weird dream he was trapped in, but actually happening for real - and that not all uncles were such heartless and cruel monsters like his uncle actually was.

Being reminded of how uncles should treat their nephews and how his own relatives had treated him was painful and made Marc want to shout and rampage himself, and he felt torn between his gratitude for Mr. Müller's unexpected offer to teach him literacy and his grief about what he'd had to endure as a small boy in his uncle's house.

He breathed in and out in a steady rhythm until he thought himself ready to face Bernd again, and he rose up from his crouched position to relieve himself, wash his hands and splash some water into his face before he would return to their room and try to get some rest after the long day. He was pale and he had dark circles under his eyes when he looked into the mirror, and Marc sighed, hoping that he would be able to fall asleep as upset as he still felt. Last night he'd sat at Bernd's bed for a long time until the other boy had fallen asleep, unable to listen to his quiet sobs without at least trying to console him and offer him wordless comfort.

The mood between them had been awkward earlier this morning when they had gotten up and Marc had seen to Bernd's feet again, and he hadn't really know how to handle the change between them and talk to the other boy after last night.

Therefore he'd actually been glad that Mr. Neuer had decided to spend the day in Bad Bergzabern, and later, when they had returned just to find the Cramerhouse filled to the brink with customers, they had all been too busied to talk much. If he was lucky, then Bernd would already be sleeping when he came back to their shared room, Marc thought hopefully, rubbing over his face one last time before he finally straightened his shoulders and opened the door, hoping that he wouldn't run into Mr. Neuer by accident in the corridor.

As much as he admired and liked his employer, but he wasn't ready to face him and talk to him right now. Marc wasn't ready to talk to anybody at the moment, and he kept his gaze lowered down on the ground when he entered the room he shared with Mr. Neuer's cousin, hoping that Bernd would get the message and not try to speak if he didn't look at him.

Bernd was already tucked in his blanket when Marc came back, but he was lying on the cot and not in the larger and much cozier bed where Marc had expected him to be. He paused, not sure what to make out of this unforeseen turnout, and he wasn't sure whether or not he would have done the same if he was in Bernd's shoes. The bed was much more comfortable than the cot, and Marc had thought that Bernd would take him up on his offer until Marc would perhaps take it back and claim the bed for himself again. Which Marc hadn't planned to do at all - because he simply didn't know how to stand up for himself when it came to such things like his own comfort and needs. He had been taught the lesson that other people's needs and comfort always counted more than his own ones the hard and cruel way, and Marc had resigned himself to sleeping on the cot until Bernd would return to Strasbourg the minute he had heard himself offer his bed to the other boy the previous night.

“Why didn't you take the bed again?” he asked rather grumpily after a moment or two, and Bernd peered up at him from the cot. “It was really kind of you to let me sleep in your bed yesterday when I was in so much pain, Marc-André. But your day was much more straining than mine, and my back hurts much less than it hurt yesterday. I think that I'm finally starting to get used to working,” the other boy gave back, and he didn't sound angry, mocking or as if he was pouting in any way. “I've changed the sheets while you were away, you can just crawl under the covers.” Bernd was really trying to make up with him, but Marc didn't feel like smiling, and he just nodded and turned his back on Bernd to undress and get ready for bed.

“Thank you, then,” he murmured awkwardly, and he could feel Bernd's eyes on him when he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt and pulled at the suspenders of his pants to get rid of them. Marc resisted the urge to look at him and just slipped under his own blanket when he was stripped down to his undershirt and underpants. He would have to change them tomorrow, but he was too tired to do that now. He stared at the dark ceiling when Bernd switched off the oil lamp and wished him goodnight, hoping that he could fall asleep quickly and just forget everything for a while, but sleep fled him of course, and he could hear that it was the same for Bernd by the way he rustled with his blanket and his pillow now and then when he tried to find a more comfortable position on his cot.

“Marc-André?”

“Hmm?”

“Can... can I ask you something?”

Marc tensed up, readying himself for the comment on his inability when it came to read and write that would surely come now. “Uhm, yes, of course, just go ahead,” he sighed, biting down on his lip until he could taste blood. He really should have known that Bernd wouldn't let go of this delicate and for Marc truly hurtful topic.

“Does my cousin really expect you to call him 'Mr. Neuer' and 'sir'? That doesn't actually sound like him, I think.”

Marc blinked because he really hadn't expected this question. He swallowed, unsure what to answer to that. “No, he doesn't. He asked me to call him by his birth name, but that wouldn't be appropriate. I'm not family, I'm just his servant.”

There was a short moment of silence, and Marc could hear Bernd turning on his side to look at him. “You're his employee, yes, but you're not his 'servant', that's a huge difference, isn't it? And I do believe that Manuel considers you family. I can see the look on his face every time you call him 'sir'. It hurts him every time you do that.”

Marc flinched when his teeth grazed over the spot where he'd bitten down too hard, and he clenched his hands around his blanket. “Do you really think that he wouldn't mind if I called him by his first name?”

“Yes, I do. He really cares about you, Marc-André.”

“You... you can call me just Marc. My... my uncle always called me Marc-André, and he did it in a way that was not so... good.”

“Oh, I see. Thank you, Marc, I'll think of that. So you don't miss your family now and then?”

“I don't want to remember my uncle and my aunt, so I try not to think of them,” Marc admitted, astonished about his willingness to share these intimate details of his former life with the other boy. “My parents died when I was still very young. Sometimes, I have problems remembering them,” he then whispered after another long pause, the lump in his throat almost choking him. It wasn't right that he sometimes had a hard time remembering his parents and how it had been when they had still been living and breathing and loved him the way only parents could love their children, was it? It made him feel as though he was a bad son that he was slowly forgetting them and how they had looked like, and Marc really didn't want to be a bad son and forget their looks and their love for him.

“I can imagine, even more because it's the same for me actually. I have problems remembering my father too sometimes. My real father, I mean. I try not to forget how he looked like and how it was when he played with me, but it's hard. I was very young when he died as well.” Bernd sounded thoughtful. “My stepfather Joseph always treated me as if I were his own flesh and blood, but I wasn't the son he would have deserved to have I fear.”

Marc stared out of the window. They had forgotten to close the curtains, and the moon was shining through the window glass, crawling over the walls and his bed with long silvery fingers. He could feel Bernd's eyes on his face, and he suddenly felt closer to the other boy than he'd ever felt close to anybody else since his parents had died.

“So you think that it's normal that I have problems with recalling their faces in my mind?” he dared to ask after a few seconds, and Bernd's pillow rustled when he nodded his head. “It doesn't mean that you didn't love them enough, Marc, really not. It's just hard to remember things from your early childhood.” Bernd paused, thinking about his next words carefully. “I miss my mother so much. Manuel is family and really nice, and so are you, but I miss her so badly,” he confessed at last, and Marc could hear the trembling in his voice. He moved to the side and lifted the blanket before he knew what he was doing, trying to detect Bernd on his cot at the other side of the room.

“Do you want to come over here for a bit?” he asked, fearing that Bernd would decline his offer, but the other boy nodded gratefully and sat up to pad across the room on his bandaged feet. Marc covered both of them with his blanket when Bernd lay down beside him, and he wrapped his arm around him from behind when Bernd turned on his side and snuggled against his chest with his own back.

“For a while it was just the two of us, me and her. I hated Joseph at the beginning because I thought that he would steal my mom away from me. She had cried so often after my father's death, and Joseph made her smile in a way I couldn't. I was really jealous of him and did everything I could do to deter him away, but he was determined to marry her and make her happy, and I could do nothing against it, just watch him court her. It became worse when he sent me to a college, but I found some friends there, and for a few years things seemed to be alright. But when I came back home after finishing school, I felt lonely and out of place, and I missed my old friends pretty much. Then I met Wilhelm and started to spend time with him and his clique.”

Bernd went silent, and Marc waited patiently, sensing that there was more to come. He had started to stroke over his arm without noticing it, but he didn't stop when he became aware of what he was doing. “I... I had hoped that they would perhaps come here and visit me, but I don't think that they will do that. Wilhelm's father belongs to Strasbourg's wealthiest merchants, but it was always me paying for everything. I think that he and his other friends were just using me and never truly cared about me like real friends would do.”

Bernd sounded hurt and defeated, and Marc could literally grab the wave of homesickness coming off of him with his hands. “They're probably laughing at my stupidity that they could prey on me like that without me saying anything against their way of using me all of the time.”

“I'm sure that they'll miss you too,” Marc said in the attempt to console Bernd, but the other boy shook his head. “No, they won't. They will find someone else to make the most of them while I'm stuck here, and they will pretend that they never knew me when I will finally be back in Strasbourg,” Bernd murmured into the pillow, sounding miserable and sad, and Marc really felt sorry for him and even angry at his behalf – something he hadn't thought possible two days ago.

“I don't even know whether or not I'll ever want to have something to do with them again after my return,” Bernd added after a moment, and Marc squeezed his arm. “Your cousin cares about you,” he said, going back to stroking his arm. “Oscar will like you too, I know that. He's a wonderful boy and really mature for his age. You will like Erik and Nuri from Castle Lindelborn when you'll meet them, they are really nice and caring. You don't need people like this stupid Wilhelm as your friends, you'll find enough friends here – real friends.”

Bernd craned his head to look over his shoulder. “And you, Marc? Will you be my friend too?” he whispered, and Marc swallowed and dared a cautious smile. He wasn't sure if Bernd could see it in the darkness, but it showed in his voice when he said:

“Yes, Bernd. I will be your friend too if you want me to be.”

 

***

 

Oscar had slept in Thomas' arms on the entire way back to Castle Lindelborn, and he had hardly woken up when Thomas had put him to bed with Mathilda's help. The kind cook promised to sit at Oscar's bed for a while in case that he would wake up and need something, telling Thomas that he looked tired and needed to see to himself after the long and straining day.

“I have such a bad conscience, Mathilda. Robert will have my head on a silver platter for letting his son work in the kitchen for hours. How could I even think of letting him do that? I should have sent him back home together with Nuri earlier, but he refused to leave Lisbeth, Marc and me alone with the bunch of hungry students, and he was truly of great help. I wouldn't have thought that he would be able to do that. But look at him, he was even too tired to eat anything when the last customer had left the Cramerhouse. What has gotten into me not to interfere before he literally fell asleep standing upright before the kitchen counter? What kind of uncle am I watching my sweet nephew work so hard?” Thomas chided himself as he looked down at the sleeping figure under the blanket, but Mathilda just smiled at him with a sigh.

“You couldn't have kept Oscar from helping Manuel, Thomas. He knows that Manuel had a rough year because of his broken foot, he had to close the Cramerhouse for weeks and lost a lot of money because of that. Manuel is too proud to take money from our lord, and Oscar will be fine again after a good night's sleep, don't worry. He can take a whole lot more than we all think that he could. It's not as if we would let him work on a regular basis, and I'm sure that Lisbeth didn't let him work too hard and saw to him taking a break and eating something in between.”

“Yes, she did, thank God. Do you really think that I didn't neglect my duties when it comes to protect him and keep an eye on him?” Thomas asked doubtfully, and the small woman nodded her head. “Yes, I do, so please stop worrying. That you did that for Manuel means more to us than we can tell you, you were truly selfless, Thomas. You couldn't work in the kitchen and serve Manuel's clientele at the same time.”

Thomas smiled. “No, I couldn't, I was constantly running back and forth between the taproom and the kitchen for hours, and after some time I really feared that my voice would give up, it is still a little bit sore. But it was actually fun. I'm tired, but in a good way. It was a bit tricky at the beginning to bring everything under control and find the perfect timing for all the different things that we had to do, and Marc behaved as if he feared that I would turn into a hungry monster and eat him for the first hour, but after that we got along with each other very well.”

“Erik and Nuri mentioned that Marc's uncle must have mistreated him really badly, so he most likely thought that you would do the same,” Mathilda mused. “They haven't told me much, they didn't want to gossip around. They only said that Manuel found the boy in his shack last January and that he saved him from freezing to death and offered him a job when he had recovered from a bad fever. They said that Marc's parents died when he was still very young, and that his uncle threw him out of his house when he turned eighteen after abusing him for years.”

“That explains a lot, especially why he can't read or write,” Thomas gave back, “I offered him to teach him literacy. Oscar can do his own studies during this time. I hope that I'll be able to help him, he feels ashamed about his lack of education. It's not his fault, and he's a clever and intelligent boy, I'm convinced that he will learn everything quickly.”

Mathilda looked up at him. “That is very kind of you, Thomas. Marc really deserves every chance he can get to make his life become a better one after what he must have been through.”

“Yes, he really does. Goodnight, Mathilda, and thank you for looking after Oscar.”

“You're welcome, Thomas. I wish you a goodnight too,” she said, and Thomas left Oscar's room to get some rest as well and perhaps dream of a tall and handsome innkeeper with the kindest blue eyes he had ever looked into.


	9. Marc's First Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas has promised Marc to teach him writing and reading, and Marc is nervous like hell while he's waiting for Thomas to keep his promise and teach him the mystery of letters...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dear friends,  
> I'm so sorry that it took me so long to write a new chapter of this story, but you all know that the last months have been tough for me, and my muse didn't work like I wanted it to work. I hope that this chapter is at least readable and that you're still interested in this story. <33
> 
> The language our boys are speaking in this story is actually German and the story takes place in Germany, and I'll use German words for Thomas teaching Marc, as I'm German myself and it's easier for me to find suitable words and pictures for the letters Marc wants to learn. Our school system uses pictures for better recognition as well, so I went with that.
> 
>  _Igel_ is the German word for the animal _hedgehog._

Manuel felt tired down to his bones, but sleep simply wouldn't come to him.

His thoughts were circling around Mr. Müller – Thomas – in an endless loop, and Manuel still couldn't believe what Lord Robert's brother-in-law had done for him. Manuel would never hold it against his younger cousin that he'd had to drive to Bad Bergzabern to buy him appropriate clothes and most of all shoes that were actually fitting and meant for working in an inn and in the stables, but he had worried all day long about the money he would miss because of his unexpected trip.

Manuel rubbed his forehead and started to count the coins one more time that were lying on the kitchen table. Thomas had insisted on giving him the generous tips he'd gotten from the students and Professor Wagner, and Marc had shaken his head with a defiantly raised chin when Manuel had offered it to him.

_“No, Mr. Neuer, I don't want it. I've gotten generous tips from some of the gentlemen myself, and I know that you had to use most of your savings because of your broken foot last year and because you took me as your employee and had to feed one more hungry mouth all of a sudden. You agreed to Mr. Müller teaching me reading and writing and I can't work during these hours, and I could never look myself in the eyes again if I took the money you'll need for your dream to turn the Cramerhouse into a hotel.”_

Manuel had tried to argue, but Marc's expression had made it clear that he wouldn't change his mind about the money. He swallowed at the memory and put the coins into the small bag to stuff it away safely until he could give it to Lord Robert. Manuel had once been robbed during his early days as the innkeeper of the Cramerhouse, and he'd learned his lesson the hard way that keeping his savings in his taproom was a blatant invitation for all people who didn't care about laws and other people's possessions at all. Lord Robert had seen to Manuel getting a small safe that was hidden behind a rack in his bedchamber, and Manuel trusted him with his savings and was deeply grateful that the dark-haired earl managed his funds and even saw to Manuel getting proper interests for his money.

Thomas' willingness to help a random innkeeper he'd just met had earned Manuel a small fortune, and he didn't need to worry about the next months and his dream of Hotel Cramerhouse coming true one day any longer. The tall innkeeper was surprised and embarrassed at the same time to find his cheeks wet when he rubbed his face with both hands, wet with tears of emotion and gratitude. He could still see Thomas' face before his mind's eye, his crooked smile and the sparks dancing in his beautiful bi-colored eyes. Manuel could hardly wait for the next day to come, and his heart started to beat faster at the thought of seeing Thomas again. He suppressed a groan of pain when he made his way to the restroom, pausing before the door to Marc and Bernd's room for a few seconds. Manuel didn't belong to those employers who never respected the privacy of their charges, but he was worried about the two boys after the straining days, and he listened carefully for any suspicious sounds that Marc and Bernd were not sleeping soundly but perhaps still awake and in pain or in the need for comfort.

Bernd was still suffering badly because of his damaged feet, and there was still the possibility that his wounds would get infected. Marc had looked pale and exhausted after spending hours with standing behind the counter and running back and forth between the cellar and the taproom to get more wine and beer, and his emotional state after Thomas' offer must be delicate to put it nicely – despite the excitement and gratitude Marc was surely feeling. But his best kept secret had been revealed, and Manuel knew enough about Marc's past to guess that Marc had been scared of Thomas for the first hours. His childhood trauma made Marc believe that uncles were monsters in general, and Manuel was still amazed that Thomas had actually done the miracle of winning the boy's trust within a few hours.

The room behind the closed door was quiet, and Manuel rushed through a quick bedtime routine and went back to his own bedroom, undressing his boots, his trousers and his shirt with tired and slow motions, but his tiredness was the good kind of exhaustion, and he fell asleep quickly, dreaming of a pair of bi-colored eyes and the most irresistible crooked smile he'd ever seen.

 

***

 

“Good morning, boys,” Manuel greeted Marc and Bernd several hours later when they entered the kitchen, the first rays of the early morning sun falling through the window and bathing the set-up table in their red-golden light.

“Good morning, cousin.” Bernd gave back surprisingly cheerfully, while Marc's answer was almost inaudible.

Marc was quiet and pale around his nose and he made his way to the table with his eyes lowered down on his shoes, apparently nervous like hell because of his first lesson in literacy that would await him later that day. Manuel exchanged a quick glance with Bernd who was still limping when he walked, but he looked much better than he'd been the previous day, and he filled his bowl with a generous portion of the warm porridge after making sure that Marc's bowl was filled to the brink with the delicious mush and that the other boy was starting to eat. He'd sat down opposite Marc, and there was amazement visible in his eyes whenever he darted a quick glance in the other boy's direction, which happened quite often while he munched away on his breakfast. It was clear to see that Marc had won himself a friend in Bernd, and Manuel was more than happy about it. He was still pretty tired himself, and breakfast was a quiet matter on this sunny morning, each of them busied with their own thoughts.

“I shall hurry with the laundry, Mr. Neuer,” Marc suddenly excused himself when his bowl was only halfway empty, and Bernd looked up from his own porridge and made a disappointed sound. “You promised me to call him Manuel, Marc,” he complained, and two red spots formed on Marc's pale cheeks.

“I don't want to be impudent,” he objected, and Bernd frowned, looking at Manuel for help. “You do want Marc to call you Manuel, don't you, cousin? He's not your servant, he's family, right?”

“I'm not family, Bernd,” Marc objected in a shallow voice, “I'm getting paid for my work.”

Bernd flinched at the harsh rejection, hurt showing in his eyes. “Manuel pays me for my work too, Marc. I thought that we'd agreed yesterday that you would call him by his name like he wants you to address him.”

Marc stared down at his now cold porridge. “That's not the same, Bernd. You're his cousin, and you're here for different reason than I am...”

Bernd snorted at this rather lame excuse, and Manuel, who'd actually wanted to interfere and calm things down, leaned back in his chair and listened to their heated conversation with interest and fascination. “I'm here because I was a spoiled brat who needed to be taught a lesson, and I'm grateful that Manuel is still willing to put up with me and give me a second chance. You on the other hand have learned that respect and trust need to be earned when you were still so very young, and you've been the family for Manuel we haven't been for him like we actually should have been after his severe injury last year, so you have every right to consider yourself family and not just a simple employee. You're working much harder than anybody I know would work for the money you're getting, and I can only hope that I will be able to do the same and give my cousin back at least some of the things he was willing to do for me. So will you please stop calling him 'sir' and 'Mr. Neuer' now? You promised me, Marc!” Bernd sounded insistent and reproachful at the same time, and he looked almost pleadingly at the other boy.

Marc swallowed, peering back and forth between Bernd and Manuel from under his lashes. Manuel smiled at him, and he reached over the table to squeeze Marc's cold fingers that were clenched around his spoon. “Bernd is right, Marc. You're like a younger brother to me, and I would really be happy if you finally started to call me Manuel. I hope that we're long past the 'sir-status'.”

“Uhm, thank you, Mr. Neu... Manuel, I mean. I shall hurry with the laundry, Manuel, then?” he said sheepishly, and Manuel's chest tightened with emotion. “I have to thank you, Marc. Manuel sounds so much better.” He gifted Bernd with a brief grateful smile. “I'll be forever indebted to you, Bernd. I'd really given up hope that Marc would ever stop calling me 'Mr. Neuer'.”

Bernd flushed at his praise, and he pointed at Marc's bowl with a raised eyebrow. “Finish your breakfast, Marc. I'll help you with the laundry. It would be good for my feet if I didn't need to walk too much today, and I need to learn how to do the laundry anyway. I'll sweep the taproom before the Cramerhouse opens this afternoon, cousin.”

“No need to get bossy again, Leno,” Marc grumbled, but he took the spoon and began to empty his bowl without any further protest.

Manuel chuckled, and he shook his head with a smile. “You two really deserve each other. But Bernd is right, and I don't want you to tire yourself out before Mr. Mül... Thomas visits us for your first lesson today,” he reminded Marc of his big day, and Marc flinched and ducked his head between his shoulders. “Do you really think that Mr. Müller will keep his promise?” he mumbled, and this time it was Bernd reaching out to squeeze his fingers reassuringly.

“Of course he will, Marc. He looks like a great teacher to me, and I'm sure that you'll learn reading and writing easily with him. You're clever and intelligent, and it isn't your fault that you never got the chance to learn these things.”

“If you say so.” Marc sounded still doubtful, but he actually looked hopeful and wasn't as pale as he'd been only a few minutes ago when he left the kitchen to see to the sheets and the shirts that needed to be washed, and Bernd's limping was hardly visible any longer when he followed him outside after winking conspiratorially at Manuel.

Manuel allowed himself the small luxury of remaining seated at the table for a few more minutes to have a second cup of coffee, and he went to work with a cheerful melody on his lips, counting the hours until he would see Thomas again. Thomas was a true gentleman and out of Manuel's reach, but a man was allowed to dream, even if his dreams would never come true.

 

***

 

The clopping of hooves and the rattling sounds of a vehicle announced the long awaited visitors when the sun reached the zenith, and Marc felt his stomach tie itself into a tight knot of both nervousness and anticipation. Bernd had helped him with the laundry, and he hadn't even complained about the sweat-inducing task and the back-ache he must feel after having been bent over the tub for more than two hours. The blond boy was a quick learner when he wanted to be and didn't dwell in self-pity about his suddenly pretty hard life any longer, and the sheets and shirts were already drying in the bright summer sun and could be taken from the clothes line before the first customers of Manuel's patronage would arrive.

Bernd had respected his unspoken wish not to talk much while they saw to their duties, but Marc had gotten an encouraging smile from the other boy whenever he'd looked at him, and Bernd's smile had helped him not to freak out at the prospect of getting his first lesson sooner than he felt himself ready for giving these skills another try after Manuel's failed attempts to teach him reading and writing.

Bernd had swept the taproom after doing the laundry, and Marc had busied himself with cleaning the already sparkling counter and the tables, stepping out of the door right when Nuri stopped the carriage before the house. Oscar squealed happily and jumped down from his seat to run over to Marc and embrace him with red cheeks. “Marc, Marc, I am so excited about today! Please tell me that you're excited too!” he cried out, and Marc gulped for air as he returned the tight hug and peered at Mr. Müller who climbed down from his seat much slower like it was appropriate for such a distinguish gentleman.

“I don't know, I hope so,” he murmured shyly, and Oscar craned his head back to look at him. “Uncle Thommy asked me to help him prepare the cards for your lessons, just imagine how much fun we'll have!” he told him, and Marc drew in another shaky breath.

“Uhm, that was kind of you, Oscar,” he stammered, letting go of the young lord when Mr. Müller approached them. “Don't scare him, darling,” His uncle chided him gently, but there was a smile audible in his friendly voice, and his eyes crinkled with amusement and tenderness at the excitement of his nephew. “Good morning, Marc. I hope you have recovered from yesterday. It wasn't my intention to make you work so hard for so long, I fear that I underestimated the numbers of hungry stomachs that wanted to be filled when I asked you to open the Cramerhouse for the students.” Mr. Müller sounded actually apologetic and worried, and Marc was stunned into silence for a moment. Lord Robert's brother-in-law had worked much harder than Marc had had to work the previous day, and that he apologized to him for having earned Manuel so much money was not what Marc had ever expected to happen.

“Good morning, Mr. Müller,” he croaked out when he had found his tongue again, taking the proffered hand with a glowing face. “I'm fine, thank you, and please don't apologize, it's us who have to thank you for serving our clients as perfectly as you did yesterday?!”

Mr. Müller winked at him and grinned his crooked smile. “It was fun. I really wouldn't mind doing that again now and then, even more considering that Manuel still has to be careful with his foot. How about his cousin Bernd, by the way? Are his feet better today?” He sounded truly interested and worried, and there was no mockery in his voice - although he surely knew where Bernd's problems had come from.

“Yes, he is, thank you. Bernd was in the kitchen when I last saw him. Mr. Neu... hmm – Manuel promised him to show him some dishes that are easy to cook for the start, I think.”

Mr. Müller's smile deepened. “So you finally gave in and call him Manuel now, that's good. Speaking of which – I'm Thomas and not Mr. Müller, Marc. I don't want to get into trouble with Oscar. He's very strict when it comes to such things, and we don't want to disappoint him, right?”

“But you'll be my teacher!” Marc protested, overwhelmed by how his life was changing again. Being Manuel's employee and getting money for his work, a room for himself with a cozy bed and three hearty meals every day had already felt like heaven on earth and had been more than he'd ever expected to get, and he didn't know how to deal with becoming a real part of Manuel's friends and family, fearing that this was only a wonderful dream and not happening for real.

“I'll be your mentor, Marc, and I hope that you'll see me as a friend you can trust one day, but I won't be your teacher in the classical way like teachers are expected to be. You're mature and a young man, not a kid anymore, and I'd like us to be on the same level. I'll teach you literacy, and I'm convinced that you can teach me some very useful things I didn't know so far in return. I grew up here in the Pfälzer Wald, but I was away for a long time, and there are a lot of things I've never learned as the son of a merchant as well as things I've forgotten during my long absence. What do you think about that? For every lesson I'll give you you will teach me something you know better than I do?”

Marc stared at Thomas totally taken aback, but then a cautious smile spread out on his face. “I think I'd like that... Thomas,” he said, and this time it felt less weird to shake his hand as though they were indeed equal in their positions.

“Great!” Thomas beamed at him. “Let's go inside and say hello to Manuel and Bernd, then. I assume that Oscar has already left us to join them in the kitchen.” he observed when he turned to look at his nephew but didn't find him, and Marc nodded eagerly and followed Thomas into the inn with a hammering heart, and the thought of his first lesson was actually much less scary than it had been half an hour ago.

 

***

 

An hour later Marc found himself sitting on the meadow under a large tree together with Thomas and Oscar, rubbing his sweaty hands against his trousers when he waited for the older one to teach him the big mystery letters still were for him. Manuel and Bernd were preparing the taproom for the first customers, and Bernd had hugged him and whispered into his ear that he believed in him and that Marc shouldn't worry about the work he couldn't do while Thomas was teaching him.

Marc had been too nervous to hug him back, and he was chewing on his lip when Oscar pulled the cards he'd prepared for him out of his leather bag. Thomas took them with a smile and ruffled the light-brown hair of his nephew. “Thank you, darling, you really did a great job with them,” he praised the boy, taking one of the cards to put it on the blanket before Marc.

“I know that you have a very good memory, Marc, and I think that recognizing letters will be easier for you when you have an image to rely on for each letter.” he explained, pointing at the picture Oscar had drawn on the white cardboard. It showed a cute hedgehog Marc recognized easily, and beside the small animal Oscar had drawn something that looked like one of the hedgehog's spikes. Marc could see a word written beneath the hedgehog, and the first letter was bigger than the rest of the word and looked like one of those spikes itself.

“This is an _'Igel'_!” Marc exclaimed, and Thomas nodded with a smile. “Yes, Marc, that's an _Igel_. The first letter of the word _'Igel'_ is an _'I'_ , and it looks like the spikes hedgehogs have to defend themselves.” Thomas pulled a notepad out of the bag and took a pencil to draw several _'I's_ on the paper. Marc's eyes darted back and forth between the card and the notepad, and his heart was beating faster in his chest when he took the notepad himself to draw some rather crooked _'I's_ onto the paper himself. Thomas nodded approvingly, and an excited and happy snicker escaped Marc before he could suppress it. Oscar clapped his hands, and Marc drew more _'I's,_ each of them better and straighter than the last one had been.

“That's really great, Marc, you're naturally talented, these _'I's_ are already pretty good to recognize. I prepared a text for you, and I want you to draw a circle around each _'I'_ you'll find in that text,” Thomas asked him, and Marc bent over the sheet of paper the older one handed him and took the pencil to draw circles around the 'spikes' he could find in the text. His brows were furrowed in utter concentration, and he beamed with pride when Thomas assured him that he'd indeed found all _'I's_.  
The next hour went by with drawing and recognizing more _'I's_ , and Marc felt happy and exhausted at the same time when his first lesson was over and they went back to the Cramerhouse to ask Manuel for some lemonade to smear their throats. Thomas had praised him again and given him some homework to do, asking him to draw some more _'I's_ to practice and find them in two more texts for their next lesson on Monday. The weekend was reserved for Oscar, Lord Robert and Mr. Reus, who would return from Castle Trifels to stay at home for the weekend, and Marc was already sad that he had to wait three entire days until Thomas would show him the next letter.

“You need to be patient, Marc. It will become easier with each new letter, but rushing things won't help you,” Thomas said when he saw his disappointment, and Marc knew that he was right, but he longed to learn more so badly, and he was also a little bit jealous of Oscar's father and his teacher Mr. Reus – who were family in the real sense of the meaning and not just by Oscar's kind proclamation.

“Manuel, Manuel, look what Marc has done!” Oscar cried through the taproom after taking a look around to make sure that there weren't any customers within earshot. “He can draw perfect _'I's_!” Marc's face was burning with embarrassment, but Manuel took the notepad to look at his clumsy letters and praise them as much as Thomas had praised them. “That's wonderful, Marc, you really did well,” his employer said with a smile that made his eyes sparkle, and Marc felt tears well up in his eyes all of a sudden.

“Thank you, sir,” he croaked out, forgetting that he'd promised to call him Manuel in the future. His mind was spinning and his throat was too tight to speak, and he stumbled out of the house to hide himself in the shack where Manuel had found him in that cold winter night. He sank down on the wooden floor and pulled his knees to his chest to bury his face in his arms and cry his heart out because everything seemed to be too much for him to handle all of the emotions rushing through him. He didn't know for how long he'd cried when a soft touch on his hand made him flinch violently, and he tried to pull away from the arm that was wrapped around his shivering shoulders.

“It's me, Bernd. Please let me,” the blond boy whispered, gently pulling him tighter when Marc fought against his embrace. Marc let out a whimper and finally allowed Bernd to hold him, sobbing on his shoulder. “I'm ungrateful and stupid, ain't I?” he sobbed, but Bernd shook his head, his cheek rubbing against Marc's temple as he did so. “No, you're not, Marc. No one's thinking that you're stupid or ungrateful. The last days have been straining for you, even more because of my own more than stupid and arrogant behavior, and it's understandable that it became too much for you,” Bernd consoled him. “Manuel is so proud of you, and he suggested that you would take the rest of the day off after yesterday.”

Marc sniffled and finally dared to lift his head from Bernd's shoulder and face the other boy. “But Manuel can't do the work all alone,” he murmured sheepishly, acutely aware of his puffy and red eyes and his disheveled state. “I'm there to help him, Marc. My feet are so much better thanks to your care, and I really want to help you and give you something back.”

“You don't need to do that to be my friend, Bernd,” Marc said, and his heart missed a beat when Bernd smiled at him and gently stroked a dark strand out of his forehead. “I know, but I want to. Friends help each other, don't they?”

“Yes, they do.” Marc offered him a shaky smile of himself and let Bernd pull him back onto his feet. He felt embarrassed when he entered the taproom again, but Manuel and Thomas behaved as if nothing had happened, and Oscar tugged at his hand and pulled him to the exit again. “I want to plug some flowers for daddy and Mr. Reus. Please come with me, Marc. We can go to the creek, have some fun and bathe our feet in the cold water!” he begged with big eyes. Marc took his hand as he looked questioningly at his employer, who was more an older brother to him. “Just go for it, Marc. Have fun and enjoy yourselves, boys! It would be a shame to spend such a beautiful day inside the house!” Manuel encouraged him, and Thomas nodded his head and smiled as well. “Just don't miss Nuri's return, Oscar. Mathilda will have my head on a silver platter if we'll miss her dinner,” he chuckled with a wink of his eye, and Oscar snickered. “No, she wouldn't. She loves you, Uncle Thommy. Alright, Marc, are you ready to have some fun?” the young lord then asked, and Marc let himself be pulled into the bright sunshine, trying to remember the last time he'd felt as happy as he felt right now, but failed as there hadn't been any day like today as far as his earliest memories actually reached.

Today was for sure one of the happiest days of Marc's entire life, the best day of many good days he'd had ever since Manuel had found him in his shack in a cold and dark winter night, a night that had changed Marc's life forever.


End file.
